Echoes Of Silence, So Loud In The Night
by YesAnimeCharactersCanBeSexy
Summary: DoC AU. After being knocked unconscious in the Shadowfox, Yuffie is recovered by DeepGround. I’ll never tell them a thing, Vinnie. I promise. Yuffentine, major angst.
1. Part 1: Silence

**Warning**: Contains allusion to rape and torture, containing some graphic violence and harsh language.

**Echoes Of Silence, So Loud In The Night**

"Valentine's gone."

"Anyvone else in ze vehicle?"

"Drivers dead. We're checking the back now."

* * *

"Got something. She's not moving."

"Get her out of zere. She comes vith us."

* * *

"_Vere vill you jump now, little flea?" _

* * *

She awoke to find herself chained to a wall, arms and legs both secured, stretched to their limits, causing her joints to ache. Her head was pounding.

She kept her eyes closed, ignoring all the various pains that clamoured for attention, instead focusing on her other senses.

Waking up chained to a wall, after all, is very rarely a good thing.

She heard nothing. Felt no stir of wind against her face that would indicate movement. Cautiously, she peeked open one eye.

She was greeted by grey walls, a very solid looking door, and a woman dressed in red, who grinned at her.

She closed her eyes again.

_Not good._

"Good morning, little flea. You are going to answer some questions for me."

* * *

Rosso was asking her about Vincent. Where he was now, what he was planning. The extents of Chaos's powers, about his other demons. A few extra questions were thrown in about Reeve and the WRO.

Yuffie wished she knew. She wished she knew if Vincent was okay, how he was handling this. How that hole in his chest was doing.

Not knowing made her chest ache with worry. Not that she'd ever let Rosso know that. Or let Rosso know anything else about Vincent - dear, precious Vinnie, who deserved to just be _left the fuck alone._

And by alone she of course meant '_with Yuffie and all her wonderful, majestic company_'.

So Yuffie just grinned cheekily at her. And with every question asked, she answered in a sing-song voice:

"I know a secret, and I'm not telling!"

* * *

It was odd, really, Yuffie thought. Despite the fact she hadn't answered a single question, Rosso hadn't touched her or hurt her in the least.

Yet.

* * *

Eventually Rosso grew tired of the games.

The crimson-clad woman sighed dramatically, lounging against the wall and regarding Yuffie with a bored look.

"You are not going to do zis ze easy vay, are you?"

Yuffie smiled at her, ignoring the tightening feeling in her gut.

_Think of Vinnie, think of Vinnie, think of Vinnie -_

"Thank you, Captain Obvious."

Rosso stalked forward, until her face was inches from Yuffie's. Despite herself, Yuffie found she instinctively drew back.

"Shall I show you pain?" Rosso murmured, her voice almost seductive.

Yuffie spat in her face.

Rosso wiped the spit from her cheek, smiling widely.

"Here is vhat is going to happen now," Rosso stated, taking a step back. "I do not have ze time for all ze games, and so I vill cut straight to the point."

"You answer my questions, or..." She ran a finger across her bottom lip, as if she was about to announce something particularly delicious.

"I let some of my soldiers have zheir fun vith you."

Yuffie froze.

Rosso grinned. That terrible, evil smile that was such a perversion of happiness.

"Vell?"

_Think of Vinnie, think of Vinnie, oh gawd Vincent-_

Yuffie spat on the floor.

Rosso shrugged.

"Very vell then."

She opened the door, indicating sharply to someone out of Yuffie's line of sight.

Yuffie closed her eyes, biting down on her lip to stop herself from letting out the terrified sobs that wanted to erupt and _holy Leviathan she was so terrified, she was so scared but she couldn't, wouldn't betray him, no not Vinnie not ever once was enough_.

She heard clunking footsteps. They seemed impossibly loud in her little prison.

"Get her down," Rosso ordered.

Two sets of hands gripped her, and she felt her shackles being released, one by one. As her last limb was freed, she snapped open her eyes, and began to stuggle wildly, feral with fear and rage, clawing at the soldiers who held her.

Rosso, almost lazily, punched her in the gut.

Yuffie doubled over, wheezing, her vision swimming, the four pairs of boots she was staring at blurring together then doubling a moment later.

"No need to be nice vith her. Take turns, boys. Get me if she starts to say anything."

She watched Rosso's legs stride out into the hallway, before they disappeared as the steel door slammed shut once more.

She slowly looked up. Three soldiers stood above her, watching her closely.

She grit her teeth, clenching her muscles as she prepared to launch herself at them when the first opportune moment appeared. _Only three of them, I could take them, didn't I tell Vinnie how I've been __wanting to get my hands on these punks for the longest time, how I'd take down a dozen of them at once?_

That was before she'd been unarmed, had her head smashed into the side of a truck, and hung from a wall for who-knows-how-long, a little voice in her head pointed out. It sounded like Godo.

She ignored it. As she would Godo.

"Who wants to go first?" one soldier asked casually. They all still wore their helmets.

"I do," the other two chorused. The first soldier frowned.

"Damn, so did I." He glanced at his companions. "Rock, paper, scissors?"

Yuffie was torn between laughing and crying.

The others nodded in agreement, and they turned towards each other to play the game.

Yuffie found her opportune moment. She struck.

She got off a quick blow to the side of the first soldiers head, her foot connecting solidly. But they were faster than she'd expected, and before she knew it the other two were already aiming punches at her. She blocked one, and tried to dodge the other, but failed, her reflexes dulled by her previous injuries.

The blow slammed into her cheekbone. Multicoloured lights exploded in her vision as her head snapped to the side. She blinked, and when she opened her eyes again her face was lying against the cool stone floor.

A boot connected with her ribcage. She curled into the injury, trying to protect herself, gasping with pain.

"Little bitch," she heard the first soldier mutter. Apparently her kick hadn't incapacitated him in any way.

"Isn't she 'sposed to be a princess, with manners and the like?" one of the others asked.

"Who gives a shit? C'mon, let's do this. Rock, paper, scissors!"

She dimly registered two grunts of disappointment, and a low chuckle that made her skin crawl.

A hand flipped her roughly onto her back.

She tried to fight the soldier off, but he just hooked a punch into her side, then backhanded her across the face.

"Hey, try not to ugly her up too much," one of the other soldiers said, laughing.

The man on top of her grunted in acknowledgement.

As he tore at her shorts, Yuffie turned her eyes to the ceiling.

_I'll never tell them a thing, Vinnie. I promise._

_I'm so sorry._

* * *

When they were finished with her, they left, not even bothering to reshackle her to the wall. Her clothes were ripped to shreds, no longer fit for wearing.

She attempted to cover herself with them as best she could nonetheless, before she curled into a ball in the corner farthest from the door and hugged herself, tears gliding silently down her cheeks.

* * *

_She hung upside down from one of the faces of Da Chao, watching with shock the scene before her._

_They had actually come for her._

"_It's not so much what you're doing as the idiotic way you're doing it."_

_There was Vincent, her new bestest buddy, confronting Corneo, coming to save her. She smiled._

_Then he glanced at her, and her smile disappeared._

_One glance. One glance, and she wanted nothing more than to shrivel up and die, to escape that look of betrayal and hurt. _

_I'm so sorry, Vincent._

* * *

Rosso returned some indefinite amount of time later, and repeated her earlier questions.

Yuffie said nothing.

Rosso snapped all the fingers in her left hand.

Yuffie silently screamed. Silently cried. Silently pleaded.

Always silent.

* * *

_She stared at the fire. It had been two weeks since her betrayal, and no one had spoken any more than was strictly necessary to her. She had kept her mouth firmly shut, afraid that saying anything would get her kicked out._

_Vincent sat opposite her, immersed in shadows that danced with the light of the flames._

_His silence, though the one she had grown so accustomed to, hurt the most, but she knew she deserved every last moment of it._

_He had started, oh-so-slowly, to trust her, despite his demons, his past, his present, to trust her enough to start to let her inside, just enough to dip a toe into the hurricane waters of his soul, and she had betrayed him._

_She stared hard at the fire, blaming its bright light for making her eyes water as they were._

"_Yuffie."_

_She flinched, afraid to look at him, to see the accusation in those blood red eyes._

"_Yuffie."_

_A choked sob emerged, and she bit down on a knuckle to stop any more from following._

"_It's in the past now."_

_She was trembling, still not daring to look at him. She withdrew her hand from her mouth, ignoring the stinging bite mark that oozed dark blood._

"_I'm so sorry," she whispered, vision blurred from tears._

"_...I know."_

* * *

"You know, I am curious about something," Rosso said, pacing in front of her, one hand thoughtfully massaging her chin, unbothered by the specks of blood spattering her arms and chest.

"Vhy do you protect him so? Vhat has he done for you, hmm?"

_Everything. Anything._

* * *

_Everyone thought they were opposites, but they weren't, she realized. They were complements of each other._

_For reasons that still escaped her, she come to this conclusion as she watched Aerith's body sink serenely into the lake at the Forgotten City._

_Ironically enough, she hid by being open. Pretend to be open and frank, let them think you're shallow. Scare them away with cheerfulness and hyperactivity._

_Vincent hid behind his cloak and garnet eyes. No one ever pried behind those curtains of his soul because they were all too terrified of what they'd find. It wasn't that they didn't like him – they were just very content with asking no questions that could lead to much more information than they wished to know._

_He used to murder people for a living. _

_And who knows how many travellers had ended up dead because of her, because she needed to save her poor, downtrodden Wutai and who cared if all those people she stole from had actually needed that materia to survive, if it meant her Wutai could rise to the glory it had once known?_

_Now Aerith was dead. _

_Vincent didn't cry. She didn't expect him to._

_She did, though. _

_Nightmares plagued her. Masamune sliding through Aerith's back, erupting from her abdomen, replayed again and again._

_And one night, the nightmare began, the same as always. Until on the next replay, it was no longer Aerith, but her mother._

_Then it was Tifa, her sole remaining sister, then Cid, Red, Cloud, Barret. A shadowy figure, who she knew to be Cait's controller._

_Then it was Vincent's turn._

_Until she was the only one left._

_She woke up, already crying, hugging herself and doing her best not to let the sounds of her sobs escape, not wishing to wake Vincent, not wanting to be so weak._

_But he was already awake, and suddenly next to her, and she clutched at him, because he was her lifeline, though Leviathan knows she didn't deserve him to cling to, after all she'd done._

_And he held her, so gently, though she knew he must feel incredibly awkward doing so._

* * *

Rosso hadn't returned for some time now. Yuffie thought she could hear very faint yelling and gunshots.

Maybe she was imagining it.

If there was some commotion, it didn't stop another pair of soldiers from paying her a visit.

She could hardly feel them now anyways, delirious from pain, blood loss, and lack of water.

* * *

_The smell of smoke clung to her. She ignored it, focused on the man before her._

_She had never seen Vincent so angry._

"_You had no right," he snarled, garnet eyes flashing dangerously._

_She stubbornly held her ground, convinced she'd done the right thing._

"_I had every right," she shot back, meeting his glare with her own. "As your friend, I'm not letting you do this to yourself."_

"_It was my choice to make!"_

"_You're such a hypocrite, you know that right?"_

"_How does wanting to live my 'life' the way I want to make me a hypocrite?"_

"_It's in the past."_

_He blinked in surprise, but the angry look remained, taking on a defiant edge. He said nothing._

"_So explain to me, Valentine, why it's okay for others to move on and not for you?"_

"_It's different," he hissed, barely audible._

"_Oh, really? Explain it to me, please, I'm very curious how the _fuck_ you've convinced yourself of that."_

_She put her hands on her hips, waiting impatiently, her seething anger surprising even her._

"_You would not understand."_

"_Not understand? Not understand what, exactly? That you loved her, but she loved someone else, loved something else, and you just couldn't accept it? Or that you don't seem to realize she was a grown woman who made her own choices fully aware of the consequences?_

"_Get out."_

"_Or maybe it's you who doesn't understand that if she really did love you, if she cared for you at all, she wouldn't want you to spend the rest of your days sleeping in a coffin?"_

"_GET OUT!" he roared. The silhouettes of demons were visible in his eyes._

"_Fine," she replied, feeling suddenly exhausted. She turned on her heel and trudged out of the mansion. "Have fun finding a new place to sleep, you fucking coward. And here I was, thinking you were my friend."_

_The door slammed behind her._

* * *

Rosso returned, limping heavily, dirty and streaked with blood.

Yuffie barely registered her return.

"Your Valentine is a strong one, I'll admit. But he is still no match for Weiss. I've decided to stay here and keep you company vhile ve vait for Weiss to finish vith him. Don't worry, I've planned some...entertainment."

Through barely opened eyes, Yuffie watched Rosso draw out a green orb. Yuffie stared at it blankly, uncomprehending.

Then the shocks began.

* * *

_She all but ran up the ladder, hoisting herself onto the small deck of the_ Shera.

"_Move it, old man!" she yelled at Cid, who was slowly ascending the ladder below her, eager to chase after Cloud and assist him in his battle with the Remnants._

_She heard Cid grumble some unintelligible curse at her, which she ignored, instead descending into the bowels of the ship._

_She wanted to get going, her adrenaline was pumping after the fight with the Bahamut and she wanted to finish those bastards who had dared touch her materia (even it was technically Cloud's – like Yuffie always said –_

"_Yuffie."_

_She stopped abruptly, as the growly voice reached her ears._

_She breathed heavily through her nostrils, feeling months of suppressed anger attempting to rise, manipulating her face into a scowl and causing her fists to clench._

_She turned towards the source of the voice. There he was, looking the same as always, standing inconspicuously in a corner shrouded by shadows._

"_What do you want, Valentine," she asked flatly, not even bothering looking him in the eye but rather focusing on some point over his left shoulder. She had steadfastly ignored his presence during the previous battle, and had no intention of stopping now._

"_...To thank you," he murmured._

_Her eyes shot to his in surprise. He stared right back at her, and she knew he was sincere._

_He looked away a moment later, staring at the floor, and she could tell he was trying to say something but didn't know how._

_Eventually, he just let out a little sigh, and looked back at her._

"_I'm so sorry."_

_Her face softened immediately, and she opened her mouth to tell him – _

"_Move it, you two!" Cid barked, grabbing her by the shoulders and pushing her towards the bridge._

_She didn't see him again until she was rescuing him from Rosso, doing her best to ignore the terror that gripped her when she saw the gaping wound in his chest._

_Still so much to tell him._

_But there hadn't been any time._

_Still so much to tell him._

* * *

The door swung open.

Rosso had just revived her again, so she could continue the tortures. Her head turned in surprise.

There was a split second of absolute silence, broken by a scream of rage, sounding torn from its owners throat. A huge retort sounded, echoing in the small room.

Yuffie blinked as Rosso's head disintegrated into a spray of red and gore. She stared at the body as it slumped to the side, but was distracted by a faintly glowing materia rolling across the floor, glinting as the dim rays of light caught it.

"Yuffie!"

She blinked slowly, still staring at the materia. She lost sight of it as a golden-clad boot came to rest in front of her face. She focused on that instead.

She vaguely felt something drape over her, covering her nakedness.

Someone rolled her gently over onto her back, and she closed her eyes, feeling so tired, expecting another round of rape.

"Yuffie..." someone whispered, and Yuffie expected a monotonous growl, but what reached her ears was the hushed voice of a man who had just broken.

She felt her features tug into a frown, stretching the scabbed cuts on her face. _That's not right. _

She forced herself to open her eyes, and saw him looking down at her, and –

Maybe it was her delirium, but she could have swore she saw tears on that pale face.

"Vincent..." she muttered.

_Still so much to tell him._

"Shh, Yuffie, don't try to talk."

_But I need to tell you. I need to tell you that you never needed to apologize to me. I need to tell you how you kept me together. How you repented for your supposed sins a hundred times over. How you taught me the wonders of silence._

_I need to tell you that I think I've fallen in love with you, and I'm so sorry, because I know you don't want it but I can't help it. _

She tried to tell him, she really did.

But blackness swallowed her.

And when she awoke, he was gone.

* * *

A/N: Planning on making this a three chapter fic – the next one will be from Vincent's perspective on the same events in this chapter, and the third will take place afterwards, probably dealing with both perspectives. Don't know how soon I'll be updating, as I want to finish another chapter of DoG before I continue this.


	2. Part 2: Echoes

A/N: I was planning on finishing another chapter of DoG before I wrote this, but my muse was stuck on this story, which made any attempt to write anything for DoG very sluggish and forced, so I just ended up giving in to my muse and her herd of rabid plot bunnies and worked on this instead.

So here's a very angst-muffiny Vincent. Enjoy! Also, kudos to _www _dot_ dirgeofcerberus_ dot _net_ for having a script that I can refer to.

* * *

He jumped out of the overturned Shadowfox, looking back only once at the prone form of Yuffie lying still at the bottom.

She'd be fine. She had always been able to handle herself.

Besides, he had never deserved her company.

* * *

He arrived at the WRO headquarters, grimly ignoring the carnage around him. He ran forward, intent on helping two WRO soldiers who were firing small handguns at something out of his line of sight.

Before he could reach them, a third soldier, limp and ragdoll like, flew through the air, slamming into the two soldiers. A moment later, the soldiers were quickly ended by a gigantic beast, glowing with blue light and a metallic sheen.

The beast looked toward him. Vincent might have imagined it, but it seemed the creature was grinning.

"What the hell?" he breathed, having never seen anything like it. And he'd seen a lot.

"Azul."

He spun around to see Shalua standing with the girl Tsviet – Shelke, the one who had identified the beast in front of him as the hulking warrior he thought he had already defeated.

A roar sounded behind him. He spun, bringing Cerberus to draw, firing off a quick set of shots, all hitting their mark.

Azul seemed not to feel them as he barrelled towards them, swiping at Vincent. He dodged, but out of the corner of his eye saw a valiant Shalua knocked effortlessly aside.

"Shalua!" he cried, moving for her, but Azul backhanded him away.

The blow hurt – he felt ribs crack, and his vision started to tunnel. Gasping, he registered dimly that Azul was turning on Shelke. He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling his chest burn as the ribs attempted to straighten themselves, his regeneration already setting in.

He opened his eyes again to see Shelke with her arm outstretched, holding a glowing materia in hand. Azul froze as her magic took effect.

Shalua was yelling, apparently not too badly harmed. "Vincent! Shelke! Let's get out of here!"

Vincent sprang to his feet, ignoring the pangs of pain in his chest, running with the two sisters towards a set of solid, reinforced steel doors. Shalua slammed a button, allowing the doors to slide open. Vincent darted inside, eyes casting around as he checked to make sure there were no immediate threats inside the room.

A scuffle behind him caused him to turn. Shelke was resisting Shalua's efforts to force her after Vincent.

With a sudden feeling of dread, he watched the doors begin to close.

"Shalua!" he called a second time, desperate to get her to safety. He sprinted for the door, but he was too slow, he knew – the door would close in a manner of moments.

With a screech of protesting machinery, the doors progress was halted. Shalua had stuck her prosthetic between them, halting their progress before forcing Shelke bodily into the room.

With a crackle, Shalua's arm started buckling. Alarmed, Vincent clawed at the doors, trying to force them open with his own unnatural strength, but he knew it was futile.

She was saying goodbye to Shelke, saying goodbye to her reason for living. Vincent looked up, seeing an acceptance in Shalua's eyes as Azul stalked towards her, Shelke's freezing spell having worn off.

Shalua began to retract her arm, causing a new surge of desperation to surge through him.

"Wait!" he called to her desperately, straining against the doors.

She doesn't even look at him, eyes only for her little sister.

"And remember, I'll always love you."

Shalua wrenched free her arm. The doors slammed shut.

Screaming inside at the futility of it all, he rammed his fists into the door, while Chaos laughed, mocking him and his efforts, his weakness.

As he watched the beige fluid from her life supporting prosthetic seep under the door, Chaos's laughter increased, gleefully pointing out what Vincent already knew, already hated himself for.

_Another one he couldn't save_.

* * *

He walked into the infirmary, feeling exhausted. Who was he to counsel Reeve on cowardice?

His eyes fell on Shalua's body, lying unmoving in a tube of mako. The infirmary felt strangely empty to him.

It took him a moment to realize that he hadn't seen Yuffie since he'd left her unconscious in the Shadowfox. He frowned; he had informed Reeve of where they had crashed, and Reeve had promised to send out a team to fetch her and the driver.

He sensed more than heard Shelke enter behind him. He watched her silently as she approached the tube that held her sister. They stood in silence for a moment, before Shelke broke it, sounding more like the child she truly was more than ever.

"She was a fool."

He stared at her, debating whether or not to tell her what Shalua had told him. After a moment, he decided to enlighten her.

"Before...when I asked Shalua what she was searching for, she answered 'her reason to live'." He eyed the young girl before him thoughtfully. "It was you, Shelke. You were her reason to live."

Shelke stared at him, the incomprehension clear on her face. "So? I don't understand how someone could give her own life for that of another. Do you understand, Vincent Valentine?"

_Doncha get it, Vinnie? Huh, doncha?_

He gave an inaudible sigh. "I can't answer for your sister, but..." He trailed off, the conversation evoking a number of emotions and thoughts he had no wish to dwell on. Memories of Lucrecia flashed through his mind. Memories of his failure to save her.

"But?" Shelke prompted him.

Slowly, he continued. "When a person has someone they care about that much, giving their life is sometimes the least they can do." He hesitated for a moment, looking away from her.

"And maybe that's what makes us human."

_Except for him. Because he'd been too much of a coward and hadn't acted until it was already too late. So he lost his humanity._

"Someone they care about..." he heard Shelke murmur pensively.

He thought of his friends. Of the people he had grown to care about.

His worst sin was letting them care about him in return. He was weak, allowing it.

_Where was Yuffie?_

He dwelled on the ninja for a moment, frowning in thought as he remembered all the things she'd done in the years he'd known her.

"Although," he started abruptly, somewhat startling Shelke, "It seems there are a lot of people around me who don't need a reason to risk their lives for that of another."

A sudden movement brought his eyes back to Shelke. She was stumbling slightly, and he reached towards her to help steady her.

"And are you-" Shelke started to say, before her legs suddenly gave out from under her and she began to fall towards the floor.

Lunging, Vincent caught her, staring at her in concern. As his eyes met hers, his head suddenly erupted in pain and blackness overtook his vision.

* * *

"_Vincent," he heard Lucrecia call._

_He kept his eyes closed. He didn't want to see this memory, not again._

"_Vincent," she called insistently, her voice rising slightly in pitch and volume._

_He kept his eyes steadfastly shut._

"_Vinnie! Wake up you goddamn sleepy-head, we gotta get moving!"_

_His eyes snapped open in surprise, and he looked up into the face of-_

_Yuffie._

_He frowned, sitting up. It was the same place he and Lucrecia had had that picnic all those decades ago. Even the breeze seemed the same, warmly tugging at his hair._

_He looked down at himself. Rather than being dressed in his Turk clothes, as he had been with Lucrecia, he was dressed in his present wardrobe of black and red._

_Vincent found his viewpoint of the memory suddenly change so that he was an observer, viewing both his memory-self and Yuffie from a few feet away. Watching as Yuffie chattered away, ignoring the silence of her companion, he realized when this had all happened._

_It was the morning after they had originally found him sealed away in his coffin deep in the basement of the ShinRa mansion._

_They had, upon having his agreement to help them, immediately thrown him together with Yuffie, who had apparently been tagging along mostly by herself, tailing the other groups. __Cloud had apologized quietly for pairing him with the 'annoying, kleptomaniac, immature brat'. He took it with his usual stoic silence, not really caring who they stuck him with, concerned only with seeking out Hojo._

_As he watched the memory from slightly over three years ago, he was struck with the same impression now as he had been then._

_She poked him, heedless of the sharp metal of his gauntlet and boots, talking endlessly to him about whatever thought happened to pass through her head. And seeing her, all but bouncing along, next to him, sitting still as death, he was strongly struck by just how _alive_ she was._

_That had been his first real impression of her. Not annoying, or immature, or brattish, but of simply being very much alive._

_Regarding Yuffie again now, with his new outside perspective, he suddenly realized something he had missed before, on that first morning when they truly made their first introductions._

_She was nervous. Very nervous, in fact, but covering it up well with a ceaseless tirade of chatter and a lot of hand-talking. Oh, he'd picked up on the nervousness then as well, but had immediately dismissed it as a reaction caused simply by his proximity._

_Now, he thought it was different. This wasn't the nervousness of someone who was faced with something scary. It was, he thought, narrowing his eyes, the nervousness of one who was doing her utmost to impress a new acquaintance and who felt she was failing miserably._

_Why she cared about impressing him was beyond his comprehension._

* * *

He woke up abruptly, eyes wide as the vision of that morning faded away.

He heaved himself up from where he'd collapsed on the floor. Shelke was still unconscious. He left her where she was, heading off urgently to find Reeve.

He found him within minutes, and noted with a faint sense of satisfaction that Reeve seemed to be in full control again, his face set with determination.

"Reeve," he called. The president, hearing his name, turned.

Vincent knew immediately something was wrong.

"Where's Yuffie?" he asked, more sharply than he'd intended.

Reeve hesitated, a look of lost hope crossing his face at the question.

"Where is she?" Vincent inquired again, this time more forcefully.

"I was hoping you knew," Reeve said, sighing. "We sent out a team to the Shadowfox, Vincent. It was still there, where you said it was, but..." he trailed off, looking extremely reluctant to continue, as if admitting what came next would make it real.

"But what?" he growled, but he already knew, though he possessed some faint hope that he was mistaken, despite his gut feeling, a feeling that had yet to be wrong. Chaos, being Chaos, attempted to stomp out his hope immediately, but he ignored the demon as best he could, fighting the gloating voice in his head that was getting harder and harder to control.

"We found the driver. He had died on impact. We didn't see any sign of Yuffie, except that hideous poncho -" He gave a weak smile, but it came out as more of a grimace – "of hers lying discarded in the back."

"She could have run off by herself. You know how she is; she wouldn't back down from DeepGround just because she was alone," Vincent argued, grasping at the straws of hope that were quickly fading away to leave him with nothing but despair.

Even as he said it, he saw a haunted look in Reeve's eyes that let him know Reeve hadn't finished.

"...They found tracks. It...it looked like DeepGround." It was obvious Reeve was doing his best to hold himself together. "We found her shuriken discarded some yards from the vehicle as well," he finished quietly.

Vincent's chest felt constricted. _Not her too, not Yuffie-_

Chaos was laughing. He screamed at the demon to shut up, his rage finally allowing him enough control to temporarily silence the demon completely.

"I'll find her," he hissed, turning to leave immediately, but Reeve caught his arm, spinning him back around. It took all of Vincent's self-restraint not to snap his wrist.

"Vincent, I know you want to find her, but we need you. You're the only one who can handle the Tsviets, and Chaos is our only hope against Omega."

It was true, he knew. He stayed silent, battling his emotions, trying to think rationally.

He knew what must be done. He would continue fighting DeepGround because he was the only who could. He knew Reeve would not rest until Yuffie was found, that he would search high and low for her.

Of course, she wouldn't need to be found if he hadn't left her there, alone and unconscious in the first place. She would be with him, talking nonstop, trying to engage him in a contest about how many DeepGround soldiers they'd each defeated.

It was his fault. He couldn't save Lucrecia, the woman he had loved. He couldn't save Aerith, the most innocent and caring woman he had ever met. He couldn't save Shalua, who was so full of determination and courage.

So why would he even dare to think he could save Yuffie, who, though she was mortal and he would never die, would live a life infinitely longer than he ever could.

He would let Reeve handle it, he decided. A man who wasn't a screw up. A man who was just a man.

Not some demon-riddled monstrosity.

* * *

_She was having nightmares again._

_She tried to hide them from him, but when she was asleep she could no longer wear that carefully constructed mask of bright cheerfulness._

_She would writhe, sometimes for nearly an hour, trapped in endless nightmares that he could only guess at. Their frequency had increased since Aerith's death. _

_But she had always had them, though he pretended to never notice._

_This time, however, he was finding it particularly hard to ignore her. She was thrashing about, occasionally crying out, and tears were flowing freely down her cheeks._

_He abruptly got up, moving towards her, concerned she might roll into the fire, she was moving so much._

_Or so he told himself. It was not out of any concern for her emotional wellbeing; she was his fighting partner, and therefore had to be in top physical shape at all times._

_Or so he told himself._

_He would never let himself care for her. He must not. _

_It was already too late, of course. She'd taken him by surprise, slipped by his various emotional defences and somehow latched herself with a deathgrip onto the very edge of his heart. _

_Then she had betrayed him, and the pain was immense. But he had forgiven her, eventually. She had done it out of love for her country, was completely dedicated to her homeland and doing whatever it took to help make it better. _

_He understood the sentiment. His devotion to ShinRa as a Turk had been the same way. And that was just working for a corrupt company, let alone working for the betterment of one's home._

_He had grown to care for her, whether he denied it or not. _

_Worst of all, he had allowed her to grow to care for him as well. She counted him a friend, one of her best._

_And for that he hated himself. Hated his weakness at being unable to push her away hard enough so that she'd stop coming back._

_He stepped away from her, self-loathing writhing in him as if mimicking the actions of the girl – young woman – in front of him. He retreated back another step, but she suddenly woke up._

_She hugged her knees to her chest, trying to stop her sobs. Trying to not wake him up, he knew. And suddenly, he found himself beside her. Why he had moved there he didn't know. He thought of retreating, but it was too late, for she had thrown herself on him, sobbing into his chest._

_And he, in his weakness, could not push her away._

_So instead, he very gently wrapped his left arm around her, very conscious of the sharp fingers of his golden gauntlet._

_How she could find any comfort in such a monstrosity as him was beyond his understanding._

* * *

Systematically, he tore his way through the DeepGround defences, slaughtering dozens of the enemy soldiers.

He was slowly becoming one with Chaos, and he didn't even care anymore.

Lucrecia. Yuffie. He had never learned from past mistakes. He should have ended his life long ago. Being immortal didn't make you immune to headshots.

Emerging from a stairway, he could see he was very near the top of the building now.

He could also see Rosso, standing in a relaxed pose, waiting for him. He walked towards her, Cerberus raised.

"Still alive, I see," she called, looking very unperturbed by his approach. "Not zhat I am surprised." She slowly rose her weapon, circling to his left. He followed her with Cerberus, unblinking.

"But vhat does surprise me," she continued, "Is zhat you are here fighting me, instead of searching fruitlessly for your little Wutai flee."

Vincent froze, eyes blazing as he regarded the maliciously grinning Rosso.

"Where is she?" he snarled.

"Oh ho, vouldn't you like to know? She's hidden." Rosso gave him a searching look. "She vas very intent on protecting you, I must say."

_Was_. "What did you do to her?" he hissed, struggling to control his emotions and his demons.

"Are you sure you vould like to know?" Rosso asked. "Are you sure you vould like to know what she endured for refusing to tell us of you?"

"What did you do to her!?" he yelled. His ears were filled with the sounds of his own pulse pounding, and his demons shared his agitation; Galian was snarlring, Gigas was bellowing, a chainsaw was revving and over it all came Chaos' laughter, mocking and cruel.

"She vas a brave one, I'll give her that much. All futile, of course, as here you are, and I vill be killing you shortly." Rosso gave him an almost seductive look. "You know vhat?" she purred, stroking one blade on her weapon with one long, index finger.

"I zhink I vill not tell you. I vill let you vonder vhat became of her. You vill never know." She stared him down, taunting him, mocking his efforts to control his rage.

"You vill never find her."

Snarling inarticulately, he fired off a three-round burst at her head, but she was already moving.

It was over in a manner of minutes. Cerberus barked, and a chunk of Rosso's thigh blew away in a meaty mess. Gasping, bleeding from other wounds, Rosso backed away from him.

"Where is she!?" he yelled, though he knew it was useless. Rosso, limping, knowing she had lost, still smiled.

And threw herself from the building.

* * *

_He hadn't been this angry in years._

_She stood there, looking slightly nervous in the face of his obvious anger but stubbornly holding her ground._

"_You had no right," he snarled. How dare she, how dare she assume she could just waltz in and interfere in his life._

"_I had every right," she replied defiantly, her granite eyes stormy as she met his glare. "As your friend, I'm not letting you do this to yourself."_

"_It was my choice to make!" he yelled. His anger at her mixed with his own disgust for being her friend in the first place._

"_You're such a hypocrite, you know that?" she snarled. He snarled back._

"_How does wanting to live my 'life'-" He couldn't help but put the emphasis on the word, mocking it - "the way I want to make me a hypocrite?"_

"_It's in the past."_

_He blinked, recognizing immediately the words as his own from when he had forgiven her for betraying him. Still, it did not give her the right to interfere, but he could think of nothing to say to her in rebuttal._

_Yuffie apparently had no problem filling in the blanks for him._

"_So explain to me, Valentine, why it's okay for others to move on and not for you?"_

_He inwardly winced at the callous use of his last name, then berated himself for even caring what she called him. _

"_It's different," he hissed, the words coming out at a dangerously quiet level._

"_Oh, really?" Yuffie asked, her tone taking on a scornful edge. "Explain it to me, please, I'm very curious how the _fuck_ you've convinced yourself of that."_

_She put her hands on her hips, waiting for his answer. Dimly, Vincent noticed the anger in her eyes nearly matched his own._

"_You would not understand," he said, his voice flat and monotone._

_Her look turned incredulous, before a bitter smile crossed her face._

"_Not understand? Not understand what, exactly? That you loved her, but she loved someone else, loved something else, and you just couldn't accept it? Or that you don't seem to realize she was grown woman who made her own choices fully aware of the consequences?"_

_He could not believe her. She knew nothing. She never knew Lucrecia._

_But her words still had a ring of truth to them, and that hurt far more than any physical wound she could have inflicted._

"_Get out," he breathed, shaking with barely suppressed rage._

_Yuffie ignored him, continuing on instead._

"_Or maybe it's you who doesn't understand that if she really did love you, if she cared for you at all, she wouldn't want you to spend the rest of your days sleeping in a coffin?"_

"_GET OUT!" he shouted, feeling nearly overwhelmed with anger and the ever present self-loathing. His demons were howling; he was afraid he might lose control, and in his present state of mind hurt her. He looked away, trying to find something to distract him from his anger._

"_Fine," he heard her reply, sounding suddenly exhausted. He looked up in time to see her turn on her heel and plod out of the mansion. He started to turn away, but her voice stopped him._

"_Have fun finding a new place to sleep, you fucking coward," she called to him. "And here I was, thinking you were my friend."_

_She slammed the door shut, rattling a rotting picture frame on the wall._

_The parting comment echoed in his mind. It hurt him, hurt him deeply, but he felt a grim sense of satisfaction._

_He could stand the pain. Better than her getting hurt because of him._

* * *

He continued doggedly on, impaling Azul on his own weapon, beating Nero in the midst of the Sable's own darkness.

He met with Weiss, and as they engaged, all he could think of was how even if he won here, he had forever lost her.

He was so weak.

* * *

_Tifa had written him first – he had no phone at the time. Then Reeve. Cid. And most surprising was Reno, dropping in for a surprise visit._

_All of them – though they told him in varying styles – demanded he apologize to Yuffie, whom, they explained, was very torn up over their fight._

_He had ignored all of them, and slammed the door in Reno's face, but they all managed to say what they wanted to say._

_Once again, he had acted too late. He had finally managed to push her away, but she had already become too attached, so instead he just ended up hurting her, the very thing he had been trying to prevent ever since he met her._

_He agonized over what to do for several months. He was torn, indecisive, her words echoing in his head._

_Eventually, though it was incredibly hard to do so, he resigned himself to acknowledging that Yuffie was probably right about one thing at least; Lucrecia would not want him spending eternity in a coffin. _

_Not that that was an option now, anyways._

_Maybe he should take that job Reeve had offered him with the WRO. At least try to do something useful. Something in her memory._

_Lucrecia had been dedicated to her job, to her study of the Lifestream and the Planet. It would be appropriate, he thought, to dedicate himself to a similar job._

_He almost lamented the thirty years he'd spent in that coffin, realizing now that he should have been focusing on trying to live enough for two lifetimes. But eternity minus thirty years was still an eternity, so he didn't dwell on the lost time._

_The fact still remained that he had hurt Yuffie. And while he may have decided that locking himself in a coffin was not the way to repent, he would never, ever risk hurting another human being the way he had hurt Lucrecia._

_Finally he settled upon apologizing to her, just enough to repair the damage he caused, and then he would make sure to always keep her at arm's length. He'd watch over her from afar._

_So he found himself waiting for her, blending in with the shadows of the _Shera_, finally having an excuse to talk to her._

_She came into view, jogging eagerly through the steel hallways, not seeing him._

"_Yuffie," he called. The sound of his voice made her freeze instantly, her expression of eager determination changing into one of barely controlled anger._

_She turned towards him, not even meeting his eyes._

"_What do you want, Valentine," she asked. Her voice, which he always remembered as so emotion-filled, was a carefully controlled monotone, and he inwardly flinched at the change._

_Eyeing her, he was struck suddenly that there was very little girl in her anymore. Before him stood a woman. She had changed. _

_They all had._

_He braced himself, reminding himself to apologize just enough to take away her hurt, and no more._

_Instead, her words echoed in his head once more, and when he opened his mouth the apology did not come out as planned._

"_...To thank you," he said quietly. Her eyes shot to his, wide with surprise._

_As he said it, he realized how sincere he was. She had made him think, speaking to him so bluntly that day. Made him question, for the first time in decades, if he was following the right course in his search for repentance._

_He looked away from her, unable to hold her gaze any longer as he carefully reorganized his thoughts, focusing on the original task he'd set out to complete. He was unsure how to proceed, however; now that he was here, facing her again, he felt confused._

_He let out a small sigh, disappointed with his own lack of conviction. He looked back at her, forcing himself to stop thinking so much and to just apologize already._

"_I'm so sorry," he murmured. He watched her face soften into some foreign emotion, and was afraid for a moment, afraid that Yuffie, being Yuffie, had forgiven him much more easily than he wanted her too._

_And afraid because he almost hoped that she had._

_Cid – and he had never been more thankful to see the blonde – chose that moment to interrupt, yelling something and grabbing Yuffie to bodily move her away._

_They didn't have a chance to talk after that. He made sure of it._

* * *

He padded down the hallway. He felt exhausted. Weiss and Omega were defeated. Chaos was gone.

And he didn't give a damn.

He searched fruitlessly for Yuffie. Reeve had phoned him, letting him quietly know that he had been unable to locate her. He had checked everywhere, but he couldn't find any sign of her.

He found a DeepGround soldier, still alive. He attempted to question him, but the soldier spat at him and took his own life instead of answering his questions.

He kicked the corpse, letting loose a scream of frustration and despair.

_Let me help you_, Galian growled in his mind. _I can sniff her out, if you let me._

And for the first time ever, Vincent encouraged the demon to come forth. He didn't question its motives. There was no time for that.

Galian immediately shot off in one direction. Vincent observed from within the beast's mind, his consciousness sitting impatiently with Gigas and Hellmasker, both looking oddly lonely without Chaos. He watched through Galian's eyes as they sighted upon a series of bloody bootprints.

Galian sniffed at the blood, then licked it.

_It's Rosso's_, the demon informed Vincent. He heard Hellmasker give a low hiss. Gigas made no reaction.

_She survived, _Vincent thought, disbelieving but not questioning it. She had been uninjured before he had fought her atop the ShinRa building.

_Follow her_, he ordered, but it was unnecessary, Galian already loping off, nose to the ground.

Vincent waited impatiently, hardly daring to hope. Suddenly, Hellmasker drew in a breath, sounding excited.

_Someone's in pain, _he whispered, with the voice of a child. _Someone close_.

Vincent forced Galian back into his mind, pain blurring his senses for a moment as he retook control of his body. He set off at a trot, Cerberus in hand.

_Guide me,_ he ordered. Hellmasker whispered directions, guided by the nearby presence of pain.

A door loomed in front of Vincent. He ran for it, prepared to summon Gigas to smash it down, but it was unlocked and swung open.

Vincent ran into the room, dimly registering a surprised Rosso, but focused on one thing only.

He froze. Looking down on her, naked, covered in cuts and bruises, he felt something snap inside of him.

Screaming in rage, he shot Rosso point blank in the face, not even looking at her as he did so.

His eyes were on Yuffie. She was conscious, staring at Rosso's headless body with a detached fascination.

"Yuffie!" He stepped towards her, taking in the damage she had sustained.

Her left hand had had every digit in it snapped. Cuts, placed with a purposeful precision, dotted her body.

And she'd been raped. Multiple times, most likely.

He tore at the bindings of his cloak, ripping it off and draping it over her, as if covering her nakedness would somehow replace the innocence she'd lost.

Lost because of him.

He rolled her gently onto her back, overwhelmed by the need to see her face again. As he did so, she closed her eyes, looking resigned to more tortures. Her face was cut as well, and a massive bruise covered one cheekbone.

"Yuffie..." he whispered.

_What have I done? What have I done? What have I done to you?_

No one answered at first. His remaining demons had withdrawn into his subconscious.

New demons, a thousand times worse than those that could actually walk and talk, danced in their stead.

_All your fault,_ they chanted to him. _All your fault, because you were weak. All your fault..._

Yuffie opened her eyes slowly, the simple action looking as if it took an incredible amount of strength.

Her eyes met his, and he could see such relief in her eyes it was painful.

"Vincent..." she murmured, her voice raspy, the motion of talking causing her split lip to reopen, oozing dark blood.

"Shh, Yuffie, don't try to talk," he whispered. He watched as she opened her mouth, attempting to say more, but her eyes fluttered shut, and her head lolled to the side as unconsciousness rolled over her.

He stood, picking her up gently, afraid that any abrupt movement would break her even further.

As he strode down the lifeless corridors back towards the surface, carrying her, he found the silence overwhelming. He found himself longing to hear her voice again, to hear that cackle of hers, hear her call _'Vinnie!'._

Echoes of her voice mingled with the mocking chants of his fleshless demons and with the whispers of memories long past.

An hour later, he barged into a WRO medical tent, shouting for aid.

* * *

He stayed with her just long enough to know she'd make a full physical recovery. The pain he felt, watching her, living off of tubes and IVs and careful application of Curative magic, was incredible. The same pain he felt when he saw _her_, clutching at her stomach, Hojo laughing quietly from the shadows.

So he fled.

But no matter where he ran, he couldn't escape his demons.


	3. Part 3: Flood

A/N: Apologies for the rather slow update. This chapter gave me a bit of trouble. Writer's block blows. It also didn't help that I ended up writing this chapter twice – finished nearly all of it, was re-reading it, and decided to scrap the whole thing and start again. Also, I know I said before that this was going to be a three-chapter fic; not anymore! There's definitely going to be one more chapter after this (and you shall see why), and possibly even a fifth.

I'd also just like to thank everyone for their reviews – they feed my soul, and the army of hungry plot-bunnies living under my bed. Now enough of my blathering, it's time for more Yuffie.

* * *

She woke up, and he was gone.

She followed him two days later.

_I need to find you I need to tell you-_

* * *

She checked his apartment in Kalm first. The sparse furnishings looked oddly lonely without their brooding master. She empathized; she missed him too. Missed him desperately.

Standing there in his dark, cold, and most importantly _Vincent-less_ apartment, she found herself suddenly overwhelmed by thoughts and emotions, vague whispers that she'd steadfastly been ignoring suddenly yelling and clamouring for attention.

_I need to find him-  
The soldier, helmet still in place, above her, panting-  
Waking up slowly, to see Tifa above her, with a look full of so much pity-  
I need to tell you, Vincent-  
She was not broken. She did not need their pity; she did not want their pity. She was not some fragile glass ornament to be smothered in bubblewrap and placed on a mantle with a 'Do Not Touch' sign, god damn it –  
Vincent..._

* * *

She checked the mansion high and low, ignoring the slowly decaying bodies of the DeepGround soldiers that still littered it.

She skirted around the small bloodstain that lurked, inconspicuous among the rest of the filth that littered the front entryway, where she had seen _him_, with _her_ hand in his chest and he collapsed and_ I thought you were dead ohmygawd Vincent_ –

She eventually found herself standing before the charred fragments of wood that marked the place where he had spent so many years. It gave her a sense of satisfaction, looking down on it, but he was not there and the satisfaction quickly disappeared.

She didn't like it here. The heavy scent of dust and moist decay couldn't cover up the faint whiffs of old, dried blood. This place was full of too many memories, of him (_and _her_, for him_) and what had been done to him _(and _her_ and why do you hate yourself she knew what she was doing, knew the risks)_ and the place felt full of stifling ghosts, echoes of so many horrors she would never know the true extent of.

She left, passing around the vast crater left by

_Rosso, grinning as she snapped another finger-  
Cid, _Cid_, for Christ's sake, with tears in his eyes as he asked how she was doing -  
She was looking up at the stars, telling some ridiculous story, and she beamed inside as she saw his lips quirk in an almost-sort of-kinda smile_ -  
_Her mother, lying so so still on the cobblestones, porcelain skin contrasted starkly by crimson -  
Just dandy, she'd replied, and made light of everything that had happened to her, and she ignored the sorrow in his eyes and her own feeling of _wrongness_ that still lingered because if she ignored it then it wasn't real –  
Why weren't you there, Vinnie? Why weren't you there when I needed to see you more than anyone?_

* * *

The vast cavern was empty of everything besides the mako crystals and _her_, as much a part of the cavern as the very rock that made it.

_Where is he._

Where else could he be? This was his place, his ultimate broody hideout, here with her.

She looked up at the beautiful woman entombed in the crystal. She looked so serene, floating there, eyes closed, hands clasped.

She wanted to break it, to hit her, to shake her until she opened her eyes and saw what she had done to him.

_It's not fair, with you so at peace when he tore himself up for _decades_ over what had happened to you, he blamed himself for absolutely everything that happened then, and everything after-_

_Blames himself._

She paused, lingering on the thought, rolling it around in her mind.

She turned on her heel to leave, and out of the corner of her eye (_it's just a trick of the light, don't be stupid_) she thought she saw a tear glisten on that beautiful face.

For once, her thoughts were blessedly quiet.

* * *

It took her a fair amount of searching, but she eventually found him.

Her shoes were filthy with the dust of the mountain, and she had almost given up, thinking maybe she was wrong, until she rounded a corner, and there he was, sitting, one knee propped up, his red cloak barely stirring in the summer winds.

She approached him silently, stopping a few feet away. He made no indication of having noticed her presence, but he had always been like that.

She managed a small smile, her first genuine grin in over a week, and offered a weak greeting.

"Hiya, Vince."

He leapt up in alarm, whirling to face her, Cerberus brought to draw so fast it seemed to almost teleport from his hip to his hand. She blinked at him in surprise, while he stared back at her.

His face was unreadable as always – but not because it was expressionless, but because there were just too many different emotions to understand.

He backed away from her, slowly, but she would have _none of that, it took me long enough to find you this time and I don't have the time or the strength to find you again_.

"Stop."

He did, as if anything she spoke manifested itself as a law of physics that ruled the entire world.

Or his world, at least.

She pointed sternly at him, narrowing her eyes in a mock expression of severity, doing her best to not notice (_but it was impossible not to)_ the emotions that he was trying to withhold, flickering ceaselessly in his garnet eyes even as he managed to master the rest of his face and set it firmly into its customary stoic mask (_made of paper, now, no longer the rock it had always been)_.

"No leaving until I tell you."

The statement was an order, not up for rebuttal. She waited, trying to not show her anxiety (_please don't leave me pleasepleaseplease I just need to tell you then you can run, if you want)_. He seemed to struggle with himself, looking away from her to stare at the ground. After a few moments, he sagged with resignation, and she did a quick mental victory dance.

"What do you wish to tell me, Yuffie?"

The question was quiet monotone, but his voice was even rougher than normal. She took a deep breath, opening her mouth to tell him, to finally _tell him_–

And the words died in her throat, all the determination that had driven her to find him suddenly ripped from her in a deluge of insecurities, old and new, memories of all the mistakes she'd ever made flickering through her mind one after another to make a movie of her failures.

She struggled with herself, tried desperately to find any of her old determination, that confidence that had always been there, even if she had made it look larger than it appeared. Floundering in the flood of images, she managed to latch on to one measly bit of strength, floating by like a small piece of driftwood, granting her temporary relief.

"Don'tlemmeleaveuntilItellyouokay," she blurted out in a rush, saying the words as quickly as possible, fearing she'd lose her will to speak at all if she waited even a heartbeat.

He looked up at her questioningly at the words. She gripped desperately to her mental raft, holding on long enough to repeat her request even though she wanted nothing more than to flee from him at that moment.

"Don't let me leave until I tell you. Please," she added, a touch of desperation in her voice at the look of hesitation on his face.

"...How will I know when you've told me what you wish to say?" he murmured, looking away from her again.

She gave a snort of twisted amusement, feeling slightly sick.

"You'll know."

He nodded once, a short, unwilling jerk of his head, but that was all she needed. She closed her eyes, letting out a small sigh of relief as the mental storm within her calmed.

"So," she said after a lengthy pause, trying to revert back to her normal chipper attitude. "I hear you and Chaos won't be having any more late night tea parties."

His jaw tightened at the mention of the demon, but he gave a grunt of affirmation.

She waited, slightly surprised at the lack of reaction. She knew (well, maybe not _knew_ – Vincent had never been a particularly willing conversationalist on the topic – but she was quite confident in her assumption) that Chaos had been the worst of all his demons, tormenting him constantly. He should be overjoyed that the monster was gone from his mind.

"So why aren't you partying it up, Vinnie-boy? You should be getting smashed, or at the very least trying to!"

His lips tightened into a thin line, and though he said nothing the silence between them thickened with the volume of unspoken thoughts. She looked away from him, suddenly feeling unworthy of looking at him, and swallowed nervously.

Giving an exasperated sigh at her own inability to conquer the fear stopping her from telling him, she sank to the ground, bringing her knees up to her chest and hugging them to her, looking out and feeling the familiar sense of pride she gained whenever she looked upon her hometown.

She glanced back at Vincent, who remained standing where he was. She studied his profile, the slightly slumped shoulders, the tight lines of his face. He looked so lost, so defeated, and her heart clenched. She wanted to fix him. Wanted to show him – not just show, but shove it up his left nostril – that _it isn't your fault._

She looked away again, and gave a sour smile. First, however, she'd have to fix herself.

Part of her railed against the thought.

_Not broken not broken not broken I am just fine thank you very much have a good day._

She bit her lip. Maybe she wasn't broken, but simply damaged.

_Nononononono I'm NOT._

She gave a weak, abrupt laugh, laced with a bitterness that was rare to her. Without looking back at Vincent, she casually informed him of the one thing she was certain about.

"Might wanna take a seat, Vinnie. I think we're gonna be here a while."

He didn't sit.

She hadn't expected him to. As long as he stayed, she didn't care.

* * *

_She sat with her legs dangling over the edge of the cliff, swinging them back and forth, her sneakers hitting the face of the cliff with soft thuds. She looked up, grinning into the rain as it spattered against her face, ignoring the chill that was beginning to seep into her limbs. She stuck out her tongue to catch the drops, drinking in Leviathan's gift. She grinned wider at the sky, winking at the rain clouds as a message of thanks to her god._

_She registered an approach – the slight pinging of water off metal, the squish of boots in wet grass – and flopped down onto her back, craning her neck so as to poke a tongue out at Vincent this time, instead of the rain._

"_You should get back into the tent," he monotoned, stopping beside her._

_She ignored his suggestion, patting the grass next to her instead with a beckoning squelch of mud. _

"_Pull up a seat, Vinnie."_

"_Yuffie, you will become ill if you stay out here."_

_She pshawed, waving a hand dismissively at him. "Leviathan won't get me sick, I'm – " She caught herself before she blurted out that she was Leviathan's daughter, Princess of Wutai, having no wish to divulge that information to anyone. _

"_You're...?" Vincent prompted. She flashed him a grin to cover up the partial slip._

"_I'm the coolest, bestest ninja ever born of Wutai, silly. Duh."_

_Vincent crouched beside her, giving her one of his 'looks'. She frowned at him. She didn't like the Looks – they had a habit of seeing things regular looks did not._

"_What is your last name?"_

_Yuffie blinked at him. "'Scuse?"_

"_Your last name, Yuffie. What is it?"_

_She blinked at him momentarily, the question catching her offguard. He raised an eyebrow at her hesitation, and she shook herself out of her surprise._

"_Korozami," she said, listing off a name at random._

_Vincent stared at her. She met his gaze innocently, repressing the urge to fidget._

"_...You're lying," he stated blandly after a few moments of staring contest._

"_Am not," she pouted, frowning at him. _

_He gave her an unfathomable stare before rising to his feet. _

"_What, leaving so soon?" she taunted, glad he hadn't pressed the issue._

"_...Do not be ashamed of your bloodline, Kisaragi Yuffie," he said quietly before turning and heading back for their camp within the shelter of trees._

_She stared after him._

* * *

"How did you know who I was?" she asked, stirring herself from the memory. She looked over to find that Vincent was now sitting in the same position he had been when she had found him originally.

He looked at her questioningly.

"Back when we were hunting Sephiroth, you knew who I was even though I'd never told anyone."

He looked away from her again, staring out at the coniferous forest surrounding Wutai.

"You look very much like your mother," he said quietly.

Yuffie blinked at him.

"You knew my mother?" she asked eagerly. Godo very rarely spoke of her, and Yuffie only had fragmented memories of her from her childhood.

_Her mother, lying so so still on the cobblestones, porcelain skin contrasted starkly by crimson –_

Vincent shook his head slowly, and she gave a frown, feeling disappointed.

"I saw her on the day she was due to be married to your father. She was quite young at the time."

Yuffie rested her chin on her knees, staring pensively into the distance.

"Why were you at their wedding?" she asked, though she thought she already knew.

He was silent for a few moments. Then, "I was there as a Turk," he stated abruptly, voice expressionless. He didn't offer any details of his mission, and Yuffie didn't need him to. She knew that his reasons for being there had not been for the good of Wutai.

Nor did she blame him for doing his job.

"I was never ashamed, ya know," she said quietly. "I just didn't want to be treated differently."

Vincent gave a grunt of understanding.

"Is that what you wished to tell me?" he asked after a long stretch of silence.

"Yes, Vincent, I looked all over for you to tell you _that_," she snidely responded. She glanced at him, and further taunts died in her throat. The sun had lowered, dipping towards dusk, and the harsh orange colouring glinted off his wild hair, lighting some of the ebony strands on fire. He was still looking over Wutai, and she had a clear view of his profile.

He was beautiful. Yuffie, as she eyed him, mused that his was not normal Yuffie terminology, but she couldn't think of a more appropriate term.

She shook herself and hurriedly looked away, feeling her face flush and a lingering heat in the pit of her stomach.

* * *

_She descended cautiously into the darkness of the mansion's basement, doing her best to ignore the twinges of pain in her left ankle with each step._

_The monster lurking within the safe had not been an easy fight. But the materia had been worth it, and keys generally lead to valuables._

_She grinned at Cloud's back as they descended. She did like her valuables._

_They went cautiously forward into the eerie glow of the tunnel at the bottom of the stairs, Barret training his gun prosthetic on the roof, his eyes straining for any sign of aggression from the many bats. They came to the locked door they'd discovered earlier, Cloud inserting the key into the lock and turning it._

_The 'click' of a lock falling open echoed in the tunnel. Yuffie resisted the urge to rub her hands together in glee as the thought of stashed away materia danced in her mind._

_As the door swung open, the dancing materia stash in her mind was quickly pushed over a cliff by Disappointment. The room was full of coffins – she found her eyes immediately drawn to the one black coffin lying in the center, more ornate than the rest._

_Barret was tense as he moved past her. Cloud moved slowly into the room, taking it all in. He approached the black coffin, apparently drawn to it as she was. Reaching it, he leaned forward to grab the lid._

"_...To wake me from the nightmare."_

_The voice, a low monotone, seemed to echo in the confined room. Yuffie's eyes widened, and she clutched her shuriken to her more closely, her muscles tensing in nervousness._

_Cloud drew his hand back sharply, a look of concerned surprise on his face, before suddenly reaching forwards once more and wrenching off the lid of the coffin. _

_The man who emerged would change her life forever._

* * *

Yuffie frowned.

Vincent had spent far too much of his life brooding, as far as she was concerned. Blamed himself for absolutely everything, which was absolutely ridiculous.

_Lucrecia died. Well, kind of. So he locked himself for thirty _years_ in a coffin and moped. Then he discovered that stupid cave, and decided he liked it better there._

_And now I've found him here, on top of Da Chao, after something bad happened to me._

Her eyes narrowed.

_Oh no he didn't._

"Vince," she said sharply, her words breaking the stillness of the night that had by then fallen.

"What exactly were you doing up here before I found you?"

She glared at the side of his head, his pale face shining starkly in the faint moonlight. He didn't respond for several moments, instead lowering his head to cover as much of his face as possible with his cloak.

"...Reflecting on my newest sins."

The words were murmured, nearly lost in the folds of scarlet cloth that covered the lower half of his face.

But Yuffie heard them anyways. And anger surged within her.

"Is that so?" she hissed, rising to her feet and stalking towards him. "Blaming yourself for what happened to me, were ya?" He said nothing, but tilted his head away from her.

"What, were you gonna build yourself a box out of rice-paper and lock yourself in it for another couple decades?"

Vincent refused to look at her. So she grabbed his shoulders and turned him forcefully, ignoring the startled look on his face.

"Don't you _ever _blame yourself for what happened to me," she hissed, locking his gaze with her angry stare. "Because it was not your fault." The image of the woman entombed within the mako crystal, a tear glinting on her cheek, flashed through her mind. "It was never your fault."

He seemed taken-aback by the vehemence of her voice, but he held her gaze, his eyes devoid of emotion.

"I left you there. If I hadn't – "

"There were more important places for you to be, Vinnie, than looking after a stupid ninja like myself who couldn't handle a bit of a bumpy ride," she interrupted. "DeepGround wasn't about to wait for me to wake up."

He looked away from her, and she was reminded of a sullen child. She released his shoulders, the fingers of her left hand aching from the pressure she'd exerted on them.

"What would you have done if I had died, Vince?" she asked quietly, never taking her eyes off the gunman as she felt the large part of her anger ebb away to reveal a sorrow for the man before her, who was just as stubborn as she was.

His jaw tightened, and his eyes flashed as he abruptly rose to his feet, still not facing her.

"Don't say that," he said sharply.

"What would you have done, Vincent? If I had died down there, if you had never found me – "

"Don't!" he yelled, whirling to face her, breathing heavily as he glared at her with a mixture of rage and terror.

She eyed him with a strange sense of detachment.

"You've already thought all about that, haven't ya, Vince?"

He turned away again, and she watched him tense up as he fought to control himself. She sighed, and rose to her feet.

"If I was you, Vinnie," she said, reverting to her normal cheerful tone, "I would stop dwelling on the 'what ifs' and start thinkin' about the 'what _is_es'." She threw herself forward into a handstand, ignoring the painful stretching of her half-healed scars. "For example, a 'what is' is that you are here basking in my wonderful company, whether you like it or not." She gave a slight grunt as she tilted to keep her balance on the uneven ground, the blood began rushing to her head. "_Ises._ Fun word to say, you should try it."

"Is that what you wished to tell me?" he asked, his voice back to its usual monotone.

She stuck a tongue out at his back.

"Jeez, Vince, you that desperate to get away from me?" she joked, doing her best to ignore the voice in her head saying _yes he is, he doesn't want to spend any more time with you, he's just being polite, who'd wanna stay with _you_, you who's so loud and annoying and ugly and-_

"And nope, that's not it," she said, rather abruptly in an attempt to cut off the voice. "Well," she amended, "it _is_, but there's a whole lot more still." She bent herself forward to plant her feet under her and stood, rather ungracefully, resisting the urge to giggle as the blood abruptly rushed away from her head.

"Why do you not simply tell me?" he asked her. She didn't register the question for a moment, focusing on keeping her balance.

Then the question gave her shove, and she tripped over her own feet to land on her back and blink dazedly up at the stars.

"Uhh..." she floundered momentarily for an appropriate response. _Because you, being the polite gentleman you are, won't laugh in my face but will instead quietly explain why it can't work and then run away and leave me._ "What, doncha like the suspense?"

The _shik_ noise of metal scraping rock marked his footsteps as he approached her where she lay. The stars above were suddenly blotted out as he leaned over top of her, frowning, his eyes glowing dimly in the darkness.

"Yuffie, what is it you wish to tell me."

She licked her lips, looking away, feeling the sudden urge to escape. Before she could fight it, she found herself scrabbling away from Vincent and back onto her feet, heading for the path.

"It's pretty late, Vinnie, I should probably head down and leave you to your thoughts and all that," she called over her shoulder, hating her cowardice and enjoying the relief of running away at the same time.

Her progress was abruptly halted by a hand grabbing her arm, spinning her back around. She stared at her sneakers, unable to meet Vincent's gaze.

"You asked me to not allow you to leave until you told me," he reminded her quietly.

She scratched the back of her calf with her other foot awkwardly.

"Yeah, I know but...we need, um, food, and stuff, ya know, so I thought I should just go down and get some..." she trailed off, glancing up at him.

"There is a large stash of supplies on the crest of the mountain, left for pilgrims," he stated dryly. "As I'm sure you were very much aware."

She rubbed the back of her neck, looking away from him again, feeling incredibly uncomfortable under his red gaze. It reminded her of when Godo had caught her trying to break into his room.

"Yuffie."

She looked up, surprised at the gentleness of his tone. He met her gaze solemnly for a moment, before focusing on her right shoulder instead, his forehead wrinkling in thought.

"...I have not run away. It was obvious that you wished to tell me something of some importance, so I stayed, out of...respect for you. You should give yourself the same respect." He lifted his eyes back to hers, the sincerity in them evident.

She swallowed, biting down on her lip, feeling the insane urge to burst into tears while wrapping Vincent in a hug. Instead, she just nodded, and allowed him to lead her back to where they'd been.

* * *

Each day afterwards was the same.

Much of the day was spent in silence, as both were lost in their own thoughts.

Yuffie would sporadically tell Vincent whatever popped into her mind.

When she had finished, he would ask, "Is that what you wished to tell me?" And she would reply in a sarcastic, joking (_never serious, because she didn't like serious)_ that no, it wasn't.

* * *

On the fifth day, she told him that he had never needed to apologize for yelling at her the day she burned his coffin. And that he should actually _never ever actually apologize to me because it's usually me getting you into trouble anyways._

"_I probably could've, ya know, tried actually _talking_ to you first, but it just seemed so much more effective to just go ahead and burn it at the time..."_

"_Yuffie, there's no need for you to apologize about that."_

"_Yes, there is, Vinnie, so kindly shut up."_

"_Sorry."_

"_Vince! What did I just spend twenty minutes rambling to you about?"_

"_...Sorry."_

_She smacked his arm. And the eeny-weeny smirk on his face made her beam like an idiot and butterflies erupt in her stomach._

* * *

The eighth day, she abruptly asked him if he still felt the need to repent for his sins.

_She eyed him, rather nervous as to how he'd take such a forward question. He appeared to be considering the question carefully, staring out at Wutai but not really seeing it._

"_Yes," he'd responded, and she felt a great sense of disappointment._

"_But not the same way I used to," he continued, and she perked up, staring at him attentively. "Someone showed me that holing myself up in a coffin is not a way to make amends."_

_She grinned at him. Curious, she asked, "Who showed you?"_

_He glanced at her in surprise._

"_You did."_

_She blinked, and felt her cheeks flush. She quickly looked away._

"_Ya know, back when...back when I stole everyone's materia, and then Aerith died right after...you, um..." She pretended to become incredibly interested in the dirt, doodling random shapes in it and refusing to look anywhere near him as she felt the blush in her cheeks grow brighter._

"_You really helped me keep together, then, annnnd I guess I just really want to thank you for that, and maybe you can use that as a 'get out of sin free card' or something, 'cause, you know, that should count for something, if you ask me, and ya know I really gotta go get a drink of water – "_

_She'd ran all the way to the top of the mountain, feeling his eyes on her back the whole time._

_When she returned, he was exactly where he had been, and she hummed noisily to herself, attempting to act normal (which was futile, she knew, because she was way too far gone down the path of insanity to ever come close to normal ever again). She gradually relaxed when he didn't say anything, and just as she started to return to a relatively tranquil state – _

"_You're welcome, Yuffie."_

* * *

She told him much over the first two weeks they sat upon the mountain. Some of what she told him was serious and deep, most of it was whatever random thought popped into her head at the time.

It was all important to her.

But the most important thing, the main driving force behind her original search for him, remained unspoken.

She _wanted_ to tell him. She wanted to tell him so much sometimes it hurt. But every time she considered speaking those words, that little voice in her head would speak up again.

Her left hand no longer ached. The many scars dotting her skin were fully healed, and already beginning to fade.

But she was still damaged. And she loathed her own weakness at being unable to overcome her insecurities.

* * *

It was their seventeenth night on the mountain.

The wind was brisk, the temperature cooler than usual for a summer's night in Wutai. She sat with her knees hugged to her chest in an attempt to remain warm.

She had thought that her determination was returning, that her strength and confidence had finally found their way back to shore after being washed away that first day she'd seen him.

But she remained unable to tell him, and she could feel a despair beginning to creep over her. The voice whispered persistently in the back of her mind, Yuffie being too tired to attempt to shut it up.

A warmth draped over her, and she looked up to see a concerned Vincent standing over her. She automatically pulled his cloak more snugly against her.

"Thanks," she said quietly. He nodded, sitting himself down a few inches to her right.

_Loud, ugly, annoying, thieving, obnoxious, who'd want to love you, you're worthless, useless – _

"What is it, Yuffie?"

She jumped slightly, startled by his voice. They'd been sitting quietly for hours now.

"It's nothing," she responded once she'd recovered from her surprise. She attempted to give him a reassuring grin, but it came out as more a grimace, her face too tired and her mind too depressed to be able to give a full-fledged smile.

He gave her one of his Looks, that let her know she wasn't fooling him at all, but he didn't press the issue.

She gave an inward sigh, closing her eyes. The voice continued its stream of comments, maliciously gleeful.

"Do you think I'm beautiful?" she asked abruptly, then instantly regretted it, scrunching her face up in embarrassment. "Pretend I didn't say that, it doesn't matter," she quickly revised, feeling her face flush in humiliation. In her peripheral vision she saw Vincent turn to look at her, a surprised expression on his face. She steadfastly refused to look at him as several seconds of silence passed.

"Yes."

She tilted her head to see Vincent staring at her.

_Good ol' Vinnie, always the polite one. _

She gave a small snort, looking away from him again.

"...You don't believe me?" he asked.

She shrugged, feeling awkward.

"It's alright, Vinnie, you don't have to spare my feelings or anything. It doesn't matter anyways, stupid question."

"What could I do to convince you of it?"

_Kiss me. Hold me. Touch me. Love me._

Biting down on her lip, she tried to disappear into his cloak. She was temporarily distracted as she breathed in his scent – gunpowder and earth mingled with the dust of Da Chao.

"I told ya, Vince, just forget about it."

"No."

She found her gaze drawn back to him at his stubborn response.

"What? Why not, just leave it alone, will ya?" she snapped at him, feeling irritated by the whole conversation.

"Insecurity does not suit you," he replied, heedless of her wishes.

Her jaw dropped open, momentarily stunned by his blunt response. He raised one eyebrow in a wordless challenge.

"I am not _insecure_," she growled.

_Liar, liar, pants on fire._

"Then why is it that we've spent nearly eighteen days atop this mountain, waiting for you to tell me something?" he asked softly.

She stood up, pacing angrily away from him, but unable to deny the words.

"And why do you ask me if you are beautiful, and not believe me when I tell you yes?"

She paced more rapidly, starting to shake as a dam she'd built without realizing started to fracture and break.

"Yuffie – "

"Why?" she yelled, gesturing violently with her hands. "Why, because no one, _no one_, no guy, has ever – " She was crying now, choking out the words, " – has ever so much at _looked_ at me, with the one, measly exception of the – the soldiers who raped me. I mean, I guess I should be grateful that they didn't put a bag over my head."

"Yuffie – "

"So tell me, Vince, why I should believe I'm beautiful, when the only touch I've ever felt is one of pain and hate."

She refused to look at him, her vision blurred with tears as she stood with her fists clenched, before her knees gave way and she sank to the ground, hiding her face in her hands and drawing a shaky breath.

"Gawd, I'm sorry Vince, I didn't mean to dump that all on you," she whispered tiredly, feeling humiliated.

_Very well fucking done, Kisaragi, go spill all your shit on his doorstep, _gawd_ you are such an idiot sometimes._

"...I'm sorry I couldn't save you, Yuffie."

She stiffened at the words, tensing up. "Don't start that again, Vincent," she said roughly.

"If I had found you earlier, I – "

She rose to her feet once more, spinning and facing him, and shoved him hard, making him take a quick step backwards to compensate.

"_Don't_," she sobbed. "Don't blame yourself because it's _not_ _your fault,_ Vincent, alright? It's not your fault I got captured, and I had plenty of opportunity to save myself the pain, but I chose not to, and you had a world to save, and I was not important, stopping Omega was important, okay? So _stop it_."

"Why didn't you just tell them what they wanted to know?" he asked, his voice sounding constricted.

"Because I cared too much, because I was, am, fucking in love with you, and I couldn't betray you again, alright!"

A deafening silence followed her exclamation as Vincent stared at her and her exhausted brain caught up to her mouth.

As she realized what she'd said, she clapped her hand to her mouth, and did the only thing she could.

She turned and ran.

* * *

A/N: Hooray, emotional cliffhanger! Honestly, I never intended it to end that way, but...well, that's just how that chapter wanted to end. I wasn't sure at first how to write Yuffie's reaction to everything, but I just looked at her character, and thought, 'How would this affect her?' I hope I did a decent job of it.

Next chapter will follow the same format as chapter 2 – Vincent's perspective of the same events.


	4. Part 4: Demons

A/N: If it's any consolation for the long wait this chapter's extra long. A combination of exams, new video games, and Bones (drama!) distracted me.

I wrote this whole thing while listening to "The Promised Land" from Advent Children on repeat. The playcount for the song went from 3 to 225. And somehow I never got sick of it.

* * *

He headed for the cavern hidden by the waterfall, his custom-made confessional booth where he whispered his sins and they echoed right back to him, and when he got there he found himself restless and wanting. As his eyes rested on the woman before him, _her_ voice whispered in his mind, distorted by self-imposed demons, until he no longer saw the beauty in the crystal but fragmented images of _her_, broken and bleeding one moment then alive and laughing the next.

He left. He allowed his feet to take him where they would, unable to pay attention to anything, driven to distraction by the very memory of her.

When he looked up, feeling dazed, and found himself at the foot of Da Chao, he found he was not surprised in the least.

* * *

He sat on a lonely outcrop of sandy rock, overlooking the beauty of Wutai. For days he sat and dwelt, memories twisting through his mind. His only company was the wind, and it seemed to whisper all his failures to him. Sometimes, he thought he heard a faint laugh, a murmured _Hey, Vinnie_, but when he looked about, hoping and hating himself for it, there was no one but him and the voices in his head.

And the wind, ever constant.

He looked down on proud Wutai, her country, and lost himself in his thoughts.

* * *

_She was laughing at Cid's expense, a loud guffaw as the pilot cursed at her as he struggled to free himself from the knee-deep mud in which he was currently entrenched. His swearing only made her laugh harder. She glanced at him, still laughing, and as her eyes met his and he saw the genuine mirth and love of life there, he couldn't help but have his own lips quirk up in a smile, even if she couldn't see it from its shelter behind his cloak._

* * *

He gave the slightest of smiles as he remembered all the times she had laughed or smiled in his presence – so many memories, for it was a rare thing for her _not_ to be smiling.

Then the image of her lying on the concrete floor, naked, bleeding, came back to him with such force it felt like a physical impact.

His demons – not those gifted upon him by Hojo, but those of his own making – took the image, and twisted it, so that he arrived just moments too late, strode into the room just in time to see Rosso shoving a blade through her gut, to see the life (_and there was so much life there, so much to be lost_) fade from her eyes.

He clutched at his head, willing the images to be gone, wanting to scream in denial.

_She didn't die, I found her in time – _

_But she wouldn't have needed finding if you hadn't abandoned her in the first place. You left her to her fate. You could have saved her._

Not for the first time, he considered just ending his immortal (_still immortal?_) existence with the foolproof method of a bullet to the head.

But even as he considered it, thought of the welcome relief death would bring, he knew it was pointless, knew he never would.

Because he knew, (_though he wished he didn't, because if he didn't it would be so much easier)_ he knew that it would hurt her more than it would ever hurt him.

Because deep down he still held onto some sick, twisted hope (_you will only make it worse, never better)_ he could still fix his mistake, somehow take back what was done to her.

Because he hoped (_and he shouldn't and he tried his hardest not to but he still did)_ he could still see her one more time, still bask in that smile, though Holy knows he didn't deserve its light.

* * *

_He had his right hand curled around the grip of his Outsider, fighting down his anger, wishing Cloud would hurry up and get their materia back instead of waiting and watching her argue with her father. She did not deserve any time for words or explanation. She should be giving their materia back, then left behind without a second thought._

_She was treacherous, a betrayer, and he would never forgive her._

_Hellmasker was giggling in his mind as he pointed out that he wouldn't feel so betrayed if he hadn't let her become his friend in the first place._

_He scowled, shutting out the demon and attempting to focus on the argument before him, realizing it had become quite heated. Yuffie was red in the face, looking like she'd like nothing better than to strangle Godo. Vincent had realized some time ago who she was, and felt a dim sense of surprise that she would be yelling at her father – her lord - with such fury and passion._

"_That's my style! And it's my own business, not yours! Don't you try and dictate what I should do!" Yuffie all but screamed at Godo, her hands balled into fists._

_Godo raised his hands, looking furious, and Vincent thought for a moment he would actually hit Yuffie for her insolence, but he managed to restrain himself._

"_Style? Dictate?" he echoed, his accented Midgarian laced with scorn. "Throwing around all those fancy words..." He paused, seeming to struggle to keep the lid on his anger, but Vincent could see it was a lost cause._

"_You're a miserable daughter," he snapped, and for a split second Vincent saw the hurt on Yuffie's face, saw her longing to just make her father proud, before the emotion was obscured once more by a mask of anger._

"_You're a sad excuse for a father," she snapped back before running from the room. Watching her flee, some part of Vincent told him to grab her and stop her, to demand their materia returned, but he found himself unable to move._

_Perhaps it was the realization, finally, of all the responsibilities she faced as the Single White Rose of Wutai. Perhaps it was him trying to sympathize with her plight, with her wish to better her hometown, to raise it to the glory it once was._

_Perhaps it was the faint glimmer of tears in her eyes._

_Whatever it was, it clashed with his feelings of betrayal and rage, making him feel slightly ill with confusion._

* * *

She had always been full of surprises. A child one moment, a ruler of countries the next. An incredible level of maturity obscured by a nearly endless optimism that many mistook for naïveté. That _was_ naïveté, sometimes, but she had seen more than anyone her age ever should. She had spent her childhood in the wild, learning how to steal to better a country that did not appreciate her efforts, to please a father who would never be satisfied. Her maturity was a hard, rough sort; one wrought of bitter experience (_and he'd contributed to that, showed her torture because he was weak_ –

"Hiya, Vince."

Before he realized it, he had leapt to his feet, drawing Cerberus in what he knew would be a futile attempt to fend off his memories of her, but she sounded _so real_, as if she was actually there.

And she was. He stared at her, unsure if she was real (_but she was, he could smell her, even without Galian, sakura blossoms and dust and sweat and _Yuffie) and hardly daring to hope (_to despair)_ that she was.

There were too many emotions – more than he'd felt in so long, and he couldn't control them, couldn't contain them, despite all his years as a Turk and all his decades doing his best to suppress anything other than self-loathing. He started to back away from her, unable to handle this onslaught of _hope (despair) hate (love) guilt (forgiveness)_ and wanting nothing more than to flee (_but she was there, and she smelled of sakura blossoms and dust and sweat and _Yuffie _and he wanted to stay there forever)_, but she opened her mouth and he knew, he _knew_ that as soon as she spoke and he could hear her, see her talk, he would never be able to run again.

"Stop."

And he stopped. And he struggled to contain his emotions, to think rationally (_for that had forever been his strongpoint, rational thinking)_,and was semi-successful as years of mental discipline allowed him to shut out some of the emotions and voices and demons within him.

She pointed sternly at him.

"No leaving until I tell you."

He looked away. He should leave (_but he wouldn't)_, he had already caused her enough pain (_but wasn't that from his leaving her in the first place?)_ – but he wanted to see her (_hear her smell her feel her taste her)_ so bad it hurt, in places he thought had long ago grown immune to such aches.

_I am so weak_.

He felt defeated, exhausted, as he realized he would not be leaving, because when it all came down to it she had asked him to stay and he could never deny her anything ever again.

_No leaving until I tell you._

He saw an easy way out as he examined what she said.

"What do you wish to tell me, Yuffie?" _Just tell me, Yuffie, so I can flee from here from you, free me from your words because I cannot free myself._

He continued to stare at the ground as he waited for her to tell him what she meant to say. He waited for her blame to fall, for her hate (_and he prayed it was not forgiveness, because he didn't deserve it) _to crash down upon him.

There were a few seconds of silence. Then –

"Don'tlemmeleaveuntilItellyouokay."

He glanced up at her despite himself as he deciphered the mushed-together phrase, and saw a frightening mix of desperation and hopelessness and –

_She was broken. He could see it. He had done it._

_I have broken the rose, and it will no longer grow._

She repeated her request, more intelligibly this time, but he hesitated, still wanting to take the easy way out, he could let _her _run, it would all be the same in the end.

"Please."

And she had him once more, because he could not forsake her, not now and not ever again (_he had already done so once and look what had happened because of him)_.

"How will I know when you've told me what you wish to say?" he asked almost mechanically, looking away from her once more, unable to stand the fragmented emotions he saw there.

She gave a snort that he assumed was supposed to sound amused but came out sounding disgusted and heavy with a self-hate he recognized all too easily.

He didn't like hearing it, coming from her.

"You'll know."

He could almost taste her desperation in the dry summer wind, so he nodded once, the motion feeling odd and jerky, as if his emotions were playing tug-of-war with his head. He heard her sigh faintly with relief and something in his gut tightened.

"So," she began, and he could hear her straining to revert to her usual tone. "I hear you and Chaos won't be having any more late night tea parties."

His jaw tightened unconsciously at the mention of the demon. He had hardly even given any thought to its absence; he was much too distracted by things infinitely more important. Namely, the shinobi before him, who he could see was giving him an expectant look out of the corner of his eye. His silence (_there's too much to say, so much to say and I cannot say it, for your sake)_ was filled with further prodding from Yuffie.

"So why aren't you partying it up, Vinnie-boy? You should be getting smashed, or at the very least trying to!"

Oh, how he would like to drink away all his worries and sins, as he had when he was a Turk. But he could no longer, Hojo had seen to that, and he doubted even an ocean of alcohol could drown out her voice in his head.

The very thought of _celebrating_ now, now that she was broken (_and he could care less that Chaos was gone, he'd take the demon back and a thousand more like it if it meant he could take back what happened to her, if it meant he could fix it, fix her)_ made him sick. He heard her give an exasperated sigh and he tilted his head slightly, wanting to see her (_because, even broken, she gave off so much light and he was drawn to it, a moth to the flame)_ and wanting to look away _(because he would only break her further) _all at the same time. He settled on regarding her through his peripheral vision, seeing her lower herself to sit on the ground and draw her knees to her chest, hugging them to her chest as she stared out over her hometown.

She turned her head to look at him, and he quickly focused on the forest stretching out below the mountain, afraid that if he met her eyes he'd break (_break more)_ and run.

She gave a short, low laugh and the bitterness in it frightened him. He looked sharply at her, but she had already looked away.

"Might wanna take a seat, Vinnie," she suggested. "I think we're gonna be here a while."

He remained standing for several minutes, wondering what she wanted to tell him and ready to flee the moment she did. He kept glancing at her, saw her lost in thought as she gazed unseeing at the sun flashing off the red and gold eaves of Wutai, before he would quickly glance away again. He did not deserve her company, her presence, and every time he laid eyes on her he felt as if he was stealing something irreplaceable away from her.

Yet still he found himself sitting, automatically adopting his common pose, one arm resting on a bent leg with the other leg stretched out before him. He closed his eyes, willing them to stay shut so he would not taint her simply by looking at her.

But he could still smell sakura blossoms and dust and sweat and Yuffie.

* * *

"How did you know who I was?"

The question startled him, and he looked at her, meeting her gaze (_not simply grey, but silver and granite and storm clouds swirling ceaselessly)_ despite his convictions not to, not sure what she was referring too.

"Back when we were hunting Sephiroth, you knew who I was even though I'd never told anyone."

He looked away again, understanding what she meant. He had recognized her, recognized her mother in her, for her mother had been a woman who was hard to forget.

"You look very much like your mother," he said quietly, and that was only partially true. His recognition of her heritage had stemmed from how she carried herself, with an unconscious aura that had people doing double takes at such vitality and zeal for life in general.

"You knew my mother?" she asked, sounding eager, and he suddenly became hyper-aware of the fact that her mother was dead now, all that vitality gone forever. He shook his head, trying to stop his thoughts from turning once more to the _what ifs, what if she had died_, and attempted to refocus on the conversation at hand.

"I saw her on the day she was due to be married to your father. She was quite young at the time," he told her. He prayed she wouldn't ask why he was there.

"Why were you at their wedding?"

He almost laughed. Why he still bothered with any pleas to a higher power was beyond him; they had never listened before, and would not listen now.

"I was there as a Turk," he stated flatly. _I was there to examine possible weaknesses in your country so they could be exploited by ShinRa. To look for ways to bring ruin to your homeland, to force them to become dependent on another._

"I was never ashamed, ya know," she murmured, jarring him out of his memories of his mission. "I just didn't want to be treated differently."

He gave a grunt of understanding, remembering their conversation in the rain so long ago _(before she was broken before you broke her before you and she became too attached to her and you)_.

"Is that what you wished to tell me?" he asked, hoping she'd say yes (_no_).

"Yes, Vincent, I looked all over for you to tell you _that_." The sarcasm was evident in her voice, and he expected more taunting, but she became silent once more, leaving them both to their thoughts.

His thoughts were of her, of his failures, of his weakness, and of how despite the fact he knew he shouldn't be here he remained nonetheless.

She had asked him to stay, and that overrode all his rational thinking, leaving it ground in the dust of the mountain.

* * *

"Vince."

Her voice was sharp, more biting than the cool air of the night, and he felt himself tensing up, sure that it was now she would tell him what she had come to say, would tell him how she hated him and blamed him and he would deserve it, all of it.

"What exactly were you doing up here before I found you?"

There was a simmering anger in her tone, and he knew she already knew exactly what he had been doing up here. He bowed his face, as if the cowl of his cloak could shield him from her words, but he knew it was pointless because she had asked and he could not lie to her.

"...Reflecting on my newest sins," he said quietly.

"Is that so?" she hissed at him, and he heard her get to his feet and walk angrily towards him. "Blaming yourself for what happened to me, were ya?"

_Yes._ He tilted his head away from her, not wanting to see her anger there. He was sure he was right. The blame was his own. It always had been.

"What, were you gonna build yourself a box out of rice-paper and lock yourself in it for another couple decades?"

A small, detached part of him reflected momentarily that if he had, she probably would have burned it like she burned his coffin. The rest of him withdrew into himself, trying to escape the confusion caused by her words.

Could she not see that he needed to repent? That he deserved nothing more than a solitary existence away from anything good?

She grabbed his shoulders, spinning him with a roughness that surprised him and his eyes locked with hers.

"Don't you _ever _blame yourself for what happened to me," she hissed at him, and he could see the aching sincerity in her eyes. "Because it was not your fault. It was never your fault."

She wanted him not to blame himself for what had happened to her. To Lucrecia. But she did not see how he could have saved her, could have saved them both, but he had been too much a coward, too weak.

"I left you there. If I hadn't – "

She interrupted his explanations, dismissing them as if they were worthless.

"There were more important places for you to be, Vinnie, than looking after a stupid ninja like myself who couldn't handle a bit of a bumpy ride. DeepGround wasn't about to wait for me to wake up."

He looked away from her. He recognized her words as logical but refused to give them merit. He could have saved her. The pressure on his shoulders dissipated as she released him.

"What would you have done if I had died, Vince?"

Her question made his every muscle tense, and instantly images of her lifeless flashed in unending sequence before his eyes.

"Don't say that," he snapped, trying to rid himself of the images (_she was right there, still alive_) but they looked all too real to him.

"What would you have done, Vincent? If I had died down there, if you had never found me – "

"Don't!" he screamed, and he felt overwhelmed by anger and terror and he couldn't control his breathing, _don't ever die, don't talk like that, for if you were dead then so many more would die without you and I need you_, and he couldn't get the picture of Rosso shoving her blade into Yuffie's gut out of his mind, and he whirled to face her because he had to reassure himself that she was still there and not gone.

"You've already thought all about that, haven't ya, Vince?" she asked quietly.

Of course she knew he had, she had always known better than anyone just who he was, what he was thinking, and he didn't like it, because something so pure (_and he knew she wasn't but to him she was)_ should not be able to understand something as tainted as him. He turned away from her again, the feeling of unworthiness enveloping him once more. He couldn't taint her.

She gave a slight sigh. "If I was you, Vinnie," she said, with her normal cheerful tone was back in place, "I would stop dwelling on the 'what ifs' and start thinkin' about the 'what _is_es'." He heard a rustle of clothing as she made some sudden movement but he didn't turn to look. "For example, a 'what is' is that you are here basking in my wonderful company, whether you like it or not." Her voice sounded slightly strained and came from a lower place than before – she had probably pulled a handstand, as she was wont to do at random moments. She gave a quiet grunt of effort. "_Ises._ Fun word to say, you should try it."

Her cheerful tone – though the words were still serious – helped to sooth his agitation, and he found himself in control of his emotions once more.

"Is that what you wished to tell me?" he asked, the words already becoming familiar to him. He had a feeling he'd be saying them quite often.

"Jeez, Vince, you that desperate to get away from me?" she joked, but there was something off about her tone and he frowned, trying to place it. Before he could, she continued rather abruptly.

"And nope, that's not it." There was a slight pause, then, "Well, it _is,_ but there's a whole lot more still." He dimly registered the sound of her feet hitting the ground, but he was too busy dwelling on what she must want to say to him so desperately – and yet so unwillingly – to pay her movements much attention.

"Why do you not simply tell me?" he asked her, deciding then and there to confront her on the matter.

With a muffled _thump_ she fell over, and he wondered if it was her acrobatics or his question that had put her so off-balance.

"Uhh...what, doncha like the suspense?" she joked weakly, sounding hesitant and unsure and _she was Yuffie she was not supposed to be hesitant or unsure she was supposed to be cocky and confident to the point of stupidity._

_Broken_, Hellmasker whispered to him. _I can sense her pain, so much more than physical_. Vincent quickly shut out the demon, forcing it back into his subconscious, afraid the demon would reveal to him the true extent of her damages and destroy any hope he had for fixing her. Filled with a sudden determination to end this, to fix her before it was too late (_because though she tried so hard to hide it it was obvious she needed help_), he strode over to her prone form, bending over her.

"Yuffie, what is it you wish to tell me." It was a demand now, not a question. She licked her lips, her nervousness evident, and she was suddenly scrambling away from him and back towards the path that lead back down the mountain.

It took him a moment to realize she was running, running away from him and running away from herself.

His eyes narrowed. She had asked him not to let her leave. And the urge to fix her had grown to a burning desire in his gut, _he could fix her then leave so she would never break again, not because of him._

She was calling something to him, not even bothering to turn his way as she hurried away from him, but he ignored the words and ran forward instead, quickly reaching her and grabbing her arm, forcing her to turn and face him. She stared at her sneakers, unable to meet his gaze and looking like a child who knew she was about to be chastised.

"You asked me to not allow you to leave until you told me," he said quietly, reminding her of her words earlier that day.

"Yeah, I know but...we need, um, food, and stuff, ya know, so I thought I should just go down and get some..." she stuttered awkwardly, glancing up at him through her bangs.

"There is a large stash of supplies on the crest of the mountain, left for pilgrims. As I'm sure you were very much aware." She looked back at the ground, rubbing the back of her neck, and his suspicions were confirmed.

She couldn't run. She was fragmented, broken, and running would only make the damage all the worse.

He knew. He had experience in the matter. He had hid, instead of ran, but it was all the same in the end. And he wouldn't let her do this to herself.

"Yuffie," he said softly, surprised he could even manage such a gentle tone anymore. She looked up at him, evidently as surprised by his tone as he was, and he managed to hold her gaze a few moments before being forced to look away, focusing on her shoulder instead, and despite himself he couldn't help but notice the smoothness of her skin, her tank-top leaving most of her shoulder bare. He quickly shunned the observation to the back of his mind, focusing on more important matters.

He had to make her stay. Make her see that running wouldn't do her any good.

"...I have not run away," he began, feeling slightly hesitant (_because he had wanted to, he had wanted to run so badly and still did but not until he fixed her_). "It was obvious that you wished to tell me something of some importance, so I stayed, out of – "

For a moment he floundered. _Out of fear, out of hope, out of despair, out of lov – _

"...respect for you," he finished hurriedly, swallowing away emotions that _he shouldn't feel but he did and he was such a monster for it_. "You should give yourself the same respect." He lifted his eyes back to hers, wanting to show how much he meant what he said. She stared at him painfully, biting down on her lip and nodding roughly, and he let out an inner sigh of relief. Still holding her arm, he led her back to their plateau atop the mountain.

* * *

Every day after that followed the same routine.

They would lose themselves in their thoughts, in a silence that was awkward and comfortable all at the same time.

Sometimes, Yuffie would tell him about what she was thinking. He listened, never telling her of his thoughts (_her, him, both of them)_ and when she was finished he would ask, "Is that what you wished to tell me?"

She would always reply in a sarcastic or joking tone, with so many words and gestures that all meant _no._

* * *

On the fifth day, she explained that he never really needed to apologize for yelling at her for burning his coffin (_but he did, because she had been right, and he had been an idiot for far too long)_. She went on to say that there was no need for him to ever apologize to her for anything because it was almost always her fault anyways.

"_I probably could've, ya know, tried actually _talking_ to you first, but it just seemed so much more effective to just go ahead and burn it at the time..." she said, giving a rueful grin._

"_Yuffie, there's no need for you to apologize about that," he insisted._

"_Yes, there is, Vinnie, so kindly shut up," she snapped, but her tone was mild._

"_Sorry."_

"_Vince! What did I just spend twenty minutes rambling to you about?"_

"_...Sorry."_

_She smacked his arm. He smirked slightly, feeling ridiculously light-hearted at the easy banter. She beamed at him, with that wide, unadulterated smile he so craved, and it made him infinitely warmer than the summer sun beating down on them._

* * *

The eighth day, she surprised him by asking directly and bluntly if he still felt the need to repent for his sins.

_He didn't look at her, afraid that if he did she'd see what he was hiding. See his need to fix her, fix his mistake. That was his greatest sin, leaving her and not saving her, and he would _fix her_, damn it. He had a feeling she wouldn't appreciate this from him, though, so he decided on a half-truth._

"_Yes," he told her. "But not the way I used to. Someone showed me that holing myself up in a coffin is not a way to make amends."_

"_Who showed you?" she asked. He turned to look at her, surprised._

"_You did," he stated, thinking it obvious. She flushed and looked away. _

"_Ya know, back when..." she began, sounding incredibly nervous and awkward, still refusing to look at him, instead doodling in the dirt and pretending to focus there. "...back when I stole everyone's materia, and then Aerith died right after...you, um...you really helped me keep together, then, annnnd I guess I just really want to thank you for that, and maybe you can use that as a 'get out of sin free card' or something, 'cause, you know, that should count for something, if you ask me, and ya know I really gotta go get a drink of water – "_

_Her cheeks flaming, she turned and ran up the mountain, and he stared after her, a feeling he didn't recognize lingering in her wake._

_It took him several seconds to identify it as self-satisfaction. He turned his gaze back over Wutai, dwelling on the feeling. His nameless demons were quiet – they'd been growing quieter over the last few days, and he couldn't help but wonder if it was her very presence driving them away. He was left to examine the new feeling in peace, turning it over, finding it a welcome relief from his usual self-loathing._

_Several minutes later Yuffie returned, humming loudly in what was clearly an attempt at normalcy after her uncomfortable speech. He debated whether or not to say anything to her, whether to thank her for thanking him, and in the end decided to just say:_

"_You're welcome, Yuffie."_

* * *

She shared much with him over their first two weeks together on top of Da Chao. He knew her favourite flavour of ice cream, her dream pair of socks, and had more details on the duties of a member of Wutaian royalty than he wished. And he soaked it all up, devoured it greedily, and yet she still hadn't told him whatever it was that was pinning them both to the mountain top with the weight of its unspoken words. Though she tried not to show it, he could see a sense of despair starting to fester within her.

He had hoped (_though he knew it wasn't true, but pretending was so much easier_) that she was starting to heal, up there on the mountain. And he had hoped (_though he knew it wasn't true, because he had thirty-three years of experience on his side_) that his own demons were starting to fade.

She began to despair, and with it obvious that she was not, in fact, healing, but only getting worse, his own demons began whispering again, never gone but only lying in wait.

_She's still broken, unfixable because of you –_

_I will fix her. I will fix what I have done._

His determination to fix her, already strong, became almost overpowering, until all he could hear was his own mantra, his own weak promise that he didn't know if he could keep.

_I will fix her_.

* * *

It was their seventeenth night on the mountain.

She was shivering, hugging herself for warmth.

And for comfort, he thought privately. She had an empty look in her eyes, one of hopelessness, and he hated it. It did not belong there.

He removed his cloak and strode quietly over to her, draping it over her. She wrapped it more snugly around herself, looking up at him with a faint, tired surprise.

"Thanks," she whispered, the first words either of them had spoken for several hours now. He nodded, feeling unsure of what to say or do to make it better, so he just settled himself down a few inches to her right. His demons whispered that he should not be so close to her, that he would taint her with his proximity, but he had realized that he could no longer resist being with her, being drawn to her. He could no longer sense Galian, Gigas, or Hellmasker; they had withdrawn into the depths of his mind several days ago and not emerged since.

_Look at her_, one voice whispered. _Look at her, look at how she is broken_.

He looked at her, huddled under his cloak, eyes exhausted and expressionless. The silence seemed oppressive to him, smothering them both, and he found himself longing for her voice, until it became too much and he could no longer stand her quietness.

"What is it, Yuffie?" he asked, watching her jump as his voice startled her out of her unhappy reverie.

"It's nothing," she responded, trying to give him a grin but it looked strained and bitter, distorting her face with unhappiness.

He stared at her, her lie glaringly obvious to him, but he was afraid to push the matter, afraid it would only make matters worse. He reluctantly looked away, feeling more unsure than he ever had in his entire life.

"Do you think I'm beautiful?"

The question was sudden and harsh, and he could almost taste her regret the moment the words came out of her mouth.

"Pretend I didn't say that, it doesn't matter," she quickly added as he turned to look at her. She kept her face turned away from him, evidently embarrassed to as much as look at him. He found himself almost unconsciously studying her profile in the pale moonlight, his mako enhanced vision bringing out the details of her face. Her cheekbones, well defined, the large eyes, small nose and the curve of her lips, framed by shoulder length, slightly unruly hair, held back with its customary headband. And the smell of sakura blossoms, drifting from tanned skin that was dotted with countless scars, some almost invisible and some a pearly white.

And she was beautiful. So he told her so.

"Yes."

She tilted her head to regard him at that, but quickly looked away again and snorted.

He frowned at the reaction.

"...You don't believe me?" he asked her, surprised and yet expecting this lack of confidence.

She gave a small shrug. "It's alright, Vinnie, you don't have to spare my feelings or anything. It doesn't matter anyways, stupid question."

No, it was far from stupid. The importance of the question to her was obvious, and it made his heart ache that she even had to ask it.

_He could fix this, he just needed to know how._

"What could I do to convince you of it?"

A flicker of emotions crossed her face, too quick for him to decipher but they left him feeling scared and light-headed all at the same time. She shrunk into his cloak, obscuring her lower face from view.

"I told ya, Vince, just forget about it," she said, her voice slightly muffled.

"No." This drew her gaze back to him, and he felt some relief to see her eyes sparking with emotion again, even if it was anger.

Anything was better than the empty despair.

"What? Why not, just leave it alone, will ya?" she snapped at him, drawing her head back out of the cloak to better argue with him.

"Insecurity does not suit you." The words were out of his mouth before he even truly registered them, but her jaw dropped open and for a moment indignant surprise removed her defences and he could see he'd hit the mark.

"I am not _insecure_," she growled at him.

She was. He could see it in the way she held herself, the way her eyes glinted, and it hurt to see her so.

"Then why is it that we've spent nearly eighteen days atop this mountain, waiting for you to tell me something?" he asked softly. She stood up abruptly, pacing back and forth in agitation but keeping her jaw clenched shut. He pressed on, standing up to face her properly.

"And why do you ask me if you are beautiful, and not believe me when I tell you yes?" he asked. He could see her shaking, and there were tears in her eyes, and it felt like someone had stabbed him repeatedly, seeing her like this. He wanted to hold her, but he could not bring himself to step towards her. He decided to try and use words instead.

"Yuffie – "

"Why?" she yelled at him, gesturing violently with her hands. "Why, because no one, _no one_, no guy, has ever – has ever so much at _looked_ at me, with the one, measly exception of the – " She was choking on her words, sobbing and gasping for air, " - the soldiers who raped me. I mean, I guess I should be grateful that they didn't put a bag over my head," she said with a self-mocking bitterness.

Vincent stood frozen, feeling completely at a loss. God, he wanted to fix her, to show her she was beautiful, but his demons were chanting again – they had scented blood, and were unwilling to let go of the scent.

_You'll make it worse, you're just a monster – _

"Yuffie – " he began, having no idea what to say but feeling he should say something, anything to halt this flood of self-hate. She continued on, heedless of his attempt.

"So tell me, Vince, why I should believe I'm beautiful, when the only touch I've ever felt is one of pain and hate."

She was shaking, and sank to the ground with her back facing him, burying her face in her hands.

_You could have saved her from this. You could have saved her from all the pain, all the humiliation, all the hate._

_It is all my fault._

_I have broken the rose, and it will no longer grow._

"Gawd, I'm sorry Vince, I didn't mean to dump that all on you," she whispered, but he deserved it, deserved it a million times over and _for fuck sake why couldn't I save you, why was I so weak – _

"I'm sorry I couldn't save you, Yuffie," he murmured, his throat feeling oddly closed as he stared at her broken form, kneeling in the dirt.

"Don't start that again, Vincent," she said, her voice rough as she lifted her head from her hands.

It was all his fault. "If I had found you earlier – "

His words were cut off as she rose rapidly to her feet, spinning and shoving him all in one movement. Surprised and offbalance, he took a quick step backward.

"_Don't_," she sobbed, and the tears on her face scarred him as they fell. "Don't blame yourself because it's _not_ _your fault,_ Vincent, alright? It's not your fault I got captured, and I had plenty of opportunity to save myself the pain, but I chose not to, and you had a world to save, and I was not important, stopping Omega was important, okay? So _stop it_."

"Why didn't you just tell them what they wanted to know?" He couldn't believe she hadn't taken the opportunity to stop it, to save herself. He was so unworthy for her to sacrifice herself in such a way for him.

"Because I cared too much, because I was, am, fucking in love with you, and I couldn't betray you again, alright!" she screamed at him.

He stared at her, his thoughts all grinding to a massive halt at her words. He watched with almost a detached fascination as she realized what she'd said, clapping a hand to her mouth in horror.

Then she turned and ran.

He stood where he was, trying to think (_trying to breathe)_ and all he could think was that a confession like that should be ringing in his ears, but all he could hear was a deafening silence, so loud in a night that seemed so empty without her.

_RUN_.

Gigas' voice was a loud, raw bellow and he found himself obeying automatically, chasing the scent of sakura blossoms and the sound of her voice.

* * *

A/N: Okay, I know that, if anything, added to the cliffie from last chapter rather than resolved it, but I'm sticking with the style of the first two chapters in that the perspectives of the characters both follow relatively the same events. Next chapter, being the last, will have both characters POVs.

Reviews make my day.


	5. Part 5: Dawn

A/N: Both perspectives in this, now you've already waited over a month for this, stop reading this and go read the final chapter!

* * *

As she sprinted down the mountain, the whole world seemed muffled, surreal. She dimly registered the jarring impact as her sneakers impacted the rough sandstone of the mountain path, heard faintly the chaotic sound of her pulse in her ears, her ragged breathing. She knew the wind was rushing into her face, causing her eyes to water, but she could not feel it.

She was aware of only two things:

The voice, tireless in its torments, murmuring to her in an almost gentle tone, but it only made the words bite harder;

And the rapid _shik_ of metal scraping rock and she knew he was chasing her, knew he wished to catch her but at the same time she knew nothing at all, knew not his motivations.

She was numb, unable to think, only to run, run run run in a race that had no goal and that she never realized she'd even started. She had no reason to continue her breakneck sprint down the face of her god, but for the life of her she could not think of a reason to stop; so she continued to run, for she was in motion and she would stay in motion until she was acted upon by some outside force.

The stars twinkled above her, the moon shone brightly, painting the land in shadows and deep, bruised purples and blues. She would blink, and for an infinitesimal moment see garnet eyes, a suddenly vibrant red in the night, then they would be gone, as her eyes opened and she was left with the darkness of night once more.

The world slowed. She inhaled another shaky breath, and something was tickling her chin and through her dulled senses she suddenly _oh so faintly_ smelled gunpowder earth dust and

_Vincent. _

The world came rushing back, chromatic and sharp and noisy and real and suddenly she was falling, Vincent's cloak still wrapped around her.

* * *

His legs pumped mechanically, pushing him one step at a time towards her, but she slowly pulled away.

She was damn _fast_ when she wanted to be, and Vincent was feeling vaguely annoyed.

His mind felt unnaturally clear and calm. Her words seemed to float innocently about him, not provoking any reaction from him. He only knew he had to catch her, catch her and then (_and then fall with her -_

He kept his eyes fixed on her fleeing form, his enhanced vision making the clear night seem almost bright. His cloak was streaming out behind her as she ran, and he wondered if she even realized she was wearing it.

Almost faster than he could register her gait suddenly staggered, as if she'd been struck, and she was falling face-first towards the ground.

_Catch her –_

In a fairy tale, he would have caught her just in the nick of time, cradled her gently in his arms, sung to her of his undying affection and the sun would rise and the birds would sing.

But he had learned a long, long time ago that life is no fairy tale.

She slammed into the path, skidding down the sloping trail, a cloud of dust erupting from her impact, and no birds sang and the night sat immovably. He winced, and tried to quicken his pace though he was already sprinting as fast as he could.

He arrived at her side in a matter of seconds, skidding to a halt with a screech of metal. He reached out a gloved hand towards her, and as the tips of his fingers brushed the skin of her arm his mind exploded with all the emotions and thoughts that had been lurking underneath the calm surface of his consciousness, leaving him breathless and dizzy.

He should say something. Tell her how much her words burned his soul, how much he loved them and hated them. Tell her how he loved her (_but he shouldn't)_, tell her that she shouldn't love him (_but she did). _Tell her how much she meant to him, _show_ her how much she meant to him, give her _love life hope happiness_ –

But he didn't know how. He didn't know how to put these old, moth-eaten emotions whose very existence he'd denied for so long into words.

_Just say something, anything, quickly before she runs again –_

But he had waited too long, and she pushed herself up so she was on all fours, and he watched expectantly, waiting (_never moving, still stuck in that immortal stasis)_ for her to run (_never waiting, too intent on catching life)_ once more.

But she didn't. With her head sagging down, she began to shake, and it took him a moment to realize she was laughing.

* * *

She landed hard, not even having a chance to break her fall or roll. Her momentum carried her another few inches down the path, the sandstone scraping her face and arms. She gulped in air as she slid to a stop, blinking dazedly and feeling the sharp sting of her grazed knees and elbows. Her head was aching, pounding out its own beat in time with her pulse, booming in her ears.

But she could still hear that _shik_, growing steadily closer until there was a loud screech of metal and she could sense him there, next to her, though her head was turned away from him. The feather-light touch of his fingers brushing her arm made her whole body burn with a sudden onset of breathless desire that she did her best to ignore. Instead, she tried to concentrate on his presence, on what it could _mean_, but in a wonderful, terrible ironic twist his presence distracted her from being able to even form coherent thoughts. So instead she just tried to label her present emotions, to stick with what she knew.

She knew that she felt ecstatic and terrified and giddy all at once. As if she were standing at the very edge of the cliff, with the most beautiful of views laid out before her but with sharp, jagged rocks waiting patiently for her at the bottom, sitting with an undeniable certainty that she would make a misstep and plummet towards their waiting teeth.

_Hope_.

That's what it was. Hope, holding her up, a lifeline she wasn't even sure she wanted. A smile twisted onto her face, bittersweet and masochistic. How she still managed to hope when she knew it was, well, hopeless, was beyond her.

_Hope. For shit's sake, Kisaragi, how naive are you to still feel hope in this?_

She began to silently laugh as she slowly pushed herself up to rest on her knees and palms. The right side of her face was stinging as the wind brushed against the scrapes she'd sustained in her abrupt halt, and for some reason the pain only made her laugh harder. She felt rather than saw Vincent's alarm at her laughter, could feel him stiffen in wariness and surprise, and she felt a sudden stab of guilt at his reaction, at forcing him into this now fucked up-down-and-sideways mess that was her emotions.

"I'm sorry, Vince."

Her words sounded incredibly loud and foreign in the hushed silence of the Wutai night, but she continued on regardless, because she was just so _sick_ of all her cowardice and all his silences and their entire goddamn relationship.

"I am so, so, sorry, because I've fallen in love with you, and I know, I _know_ you don't want it but there ya go, my love's all yours now."

The words that she had struggled to speak for over two weeks _(months years lifetimes)_ flowed easily now, their passage smoothed by despair and bitterness and an aching, apathetic exhaustion. She pushed herself further upright so she rested only on her knees, keeling over so she leaned against the rock of the mountain and was able to face Vincent properly.

He was staring at her, unblinking, and he still looked so damn _good_ and she hated him for it, hated him for even _existing_ –

"Trust me, Vinnie, I never wanted this. I was supposed to fall in love with some blonde, tanned, badass hunk from Costa who always has some cocky smile on his face, kinda like...like if Cloud and Reno had a kid together," she said, and she was smiling (_though she didn't know why, really)_ but she thought she could taste salt on her lips as well. "And his eyes were supposed to be green, brown, _and _blue all at the same time because he would just be that awesome and we would have steamy, passionate sex on the beach and make lots of little Yuffie spawns that would all grow up to be the best ninjas in the entire universe and would all say _'grossness_' but with a Costa accent.

"But here I am, Vince," she stated, emphasizing each word and throwing her hands out in a rough gesture to indicate the mountain and the night and _him_, most of all. "I'm on a mountain, not a beach, and I've gone and fallen in love with some _vampire_, who is most definitely _not_ tanned and is _not_ blonde and _not _badass even though he looks like he is but he's really the most polite gentleman I've ever met, and he has a whole _city_ of skeletons partying in his closet so he doesn't do cocky grins, he just looks sad and emo all the time. And his eyes – " _holy Leviathan, his eyes_, " – are _not_ green and brown and blue but instead they're the most...they're the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen and I'm _sorry._"

She took a deep, shuddering breath, and she felt so small under _those _eyes, all multi-faceted rubies that cut to her soul, and she was forced to look away. She felt totally drained after her outburst, with nothing but an empty ache in the pit of her stomach that she suspected could never be filled.

"...Is that what you wished to tell me?"

* * *

He stiffened in a wary surprise at her laughter, feeling lost and unsure. The laugh sounded _wrong_, wrong wrong wrong and something so twisted and tainted did not belong coming from her.

"I'm sorry, Vince."

Her words left him baffled and offbalance, but before he had any chance to make a protest she continued on, her head still bowed, speaking to Da Chao rather than him.

"I am so, so, sorry, because I've fallen in love with you, and I know, I _know_ you don't want it but there ya go, my love's all yours now."

She was so wrong. She was so, so, terribly _wrong_ because he wanted it, craved it but he _shouldn't_ and yet she thrust it upon him and he found himself greedily seizing it, lapping it up like an addict beyond any hope of recovery. He was so weak, lacking any self-control but if it was so wrong why was there this warmth spreading from his belly, leaving him weak and so _confused_ because he wasn't supposed to (_wasn't allowed to_) feel this feeling anymore –

She was suddenly sitting up, staring at him as she propped herself up against the sandy rock, her silver eyes dull and tarnished in the moonlight.

_Fix her, fix her, fix –_

But he didn't know how, and she was already filling in his silence, as had been their tradition for so many years now.

"Trust me, Vinnie, I never wanted this," she started, and that hurt him, somehow. "I was supposed to fall in love with some blonde, tanned, badass hunk from Costa who always has some cocky smile on his face, kinda like..." she trailed off, looking for a suitable simile, and he watched with fascination the trail of tears slowly sliding down her face, running over the fresh scrapes from her fall. "Like if Cloud and Reno had a kid together. And his eyes were supposed to be green, brown, _and _blue all at the same time because he would just be that awesome and we would have steamy, passionate sex on the beach and make lots of little Yuffie spawns that would all grow up to be the best ninjas in the entire universe and would all say _'grossness_' but with a Costa accent. But here I am, Vince."

She gestured broadly, her words hard and almost accusatory. "I'm on a mountain, not a beach, and I've gone and fallen in love with some _vampire_, who is most definitely _not_ tanned and is _not_ blonde and _not _badass even though he looks like he is but he's really the most polite gentleman I've ever met, and he has a whole _city_ of skeletons partying in his closet so he doesn't do cocky grins, he just looks sad and emo all the time." He blinked at her, the words spilling from her with a quick, defiant edge and his head was spinning and he wished he could be that man she described. "And his eyes are _not_ green and brown and blue but instead they're the most...they're the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen and I'm _sorry._"

The last word came out as a sob, and she fell silent at last. He couldn't stop staring at her – her eyes were red, the scrapes on her cheek a stark contrast to the smoothness of her skin, she was covered in dirt and his cloak was engulfing her petite form and she looked _so beautiful - _

The words came automatically from his mouth, a force of habit, and he thanked whatever higher power was listening that he had regained his voice at last.

"Is that what you wished to tell me?"

She glanced up at him for a moment, and he could see the smallest flicker of dark amusement in her eyes.

"Yeah, Vince. You can take off now." She sounded so tired, so unlike the usual bouncing ball of energy he was used to. And those tired words carried freedom – freedom from his promise to stay until she had told him, for she had told him now and he could leave, was no longer under any obligation.

He didn't care in the least, and he had no intention of leaving without her. Instead he mused upon what he should say, or do, or scream in order to put his emotions into something she could understand.

He opened his mouth, and nothing came out.

One of the tormenting demons in his head pointed out that maybe he couldn't express his feelings because he was undeserving of them. He closed his eyes, closing his mouth with a snap and grinding his teeth together, concentrating on shutting all the negative whispers out. He opened his eyes again to see her staring blankly at the ground.

_Just be honest._

"...I don't know what to say."

She blinked before looking at him again, as if she had forgotten he was there. She gave a tiny smile that held no amusement but only an understanding resignation.

"Don't hurt yourself trying to think of some way to spare my feelings, Vince. I'll get over it."

_Lie._ He knew it, and she knew it. He felt an abrupt urge to apologize for everything (_and anything and nothing at all)._

"...I'm sorry."

She sighed quietly. He wondered if she would chastise him for apologizing again – hoped she would, because then she might regain some of her liveliness – but she just looked calmly at him.

"For what?"

He blinked. _Good question_.

He was sorry she'd gone and fallen in love with him, because she was better than that and he didn't deserve it.

He was sorry he'd ever left her in that Shadowfox because she didn't deserve the pain and then maybe they wouldn't be here on this mountain surrounded by physical and emotional cliffs.

He was sorry –

"For not being blonde."

Her eyes widened, and a smile flickered across her face as she gave a small chuckle. He mentally kicked himself.

"Blonde wouldn't suit you, Vinnie. You're too smart to be a blonde."

He gave a slight frown, unsure as to whether he should be insulted or flattered. He quickly dismissed the thought, keeping his desperately terrified mind on task.

"Yuffie, I..."

He trailed off, feeling enormously frustrated with himself and his inability to just _say it_.

_What am I so afraid of?_

Hurting her. Tainting her. Having her depend on him.

_Having her leave him_.

He swallowed, the very thought making him sick. Old feelings of a heart-wrenching betrayal welled up inside him, making his stomach feel full of lead.

_As long as she was happy, I was happy._

He wanted to laugh. What a lie that was. What little humanity he'd had left as a Turk had withered away when she went to Hojo.

_And all that remained was a monster and a murderer._

"I'm a monster."

The words sounded odd in his ears, as if it were not his own voice, too full of fear and emotions he couldn't label.

"Bullshit, Vincent." Yuffie's response carried no bite to it, as if they were simply debating the possibility of rain.

"It's not," he retorted, frustration at her and him and _everything_ welling up in him.

"You suggesting I fell in love with a monster, Vinnie? 'Cause usually when I see a monster I have an urge to stab it, not hug it."

He scowled, resisting the urge to slam his gauntleted hand into the rock.

"You do not understand – "

"What? What is it I don't _understand_, Vincent? You never told me when I asked you the last time, so why don't you tell me now?"

Before he even realized what he was doing he had grabbed the cloak draped around her and pulled on it sharply, until their faces were mere inches apart.

"_I killed people for a living_," he hissed, shaking as he glared at her. "I shot them, I stabbed them, I beat them to death with my bare hands, all so a corrupt company could make more money. How could a human being do that? How could a _human being_ kill the woman they love?" _How could they_ _leave the woman they love for their enemies?_ "Explain to me how some_thing_ that does that can ever be anything other than a monster."

She stared at him, seemingly completely unfazed by his sins.

"Congratulations, you were good at your job. Want a medal? You think my hands are clean? I stole from _hundreds_ of people, Vincent, and I took everything they had - "

"That's not the same th– " he started to interrupt, but she ignored him, simply increasing the volume of her voice to speak over him.

"I ran into this these two young brothers, obviously poor. I overheard them talking, discussing how much they could get for some low level All materia at the materia shop in a nearby town, because they needed the gil to buy a potion for their sick mother or sister or something. I can't remember who exactly because at the time I didn't give a _shit_ what they needed the cash for, I just saw an easy target. And I did it _again and again and again_ for seven _years_, Vincent."

She stared at him, her eyes flinty and hard, all jagged metal that was too worn for the youth of her face. She leaned even closer to him, and he was suddenly hyperaware of their proximity, and just how hard it was to breathe normally.

"And despite everything you've done, you still loved her. Monsters don't love, Vinnie, only people and Carebears and wombats do, and I don't think you're a Carebear or wombat or a lovechild of the two so that obviously makes you a person whether you like it or not and I don't even care if you agree with me because I think you're a person and I'm a princess so whatever I say goes so _nyah_," she finished, sticking out her tongue at him.

He stared at her. Drank in the sight of her, defiant and flushed and angry despite her light-hearted tone, and he wondered, just slightly, if maybe she could be right.

_Despite everything I've done, I still love you._

And he knew then, right at that moment, that if he managed to fix her (_or if he didn't, but he would die trying)_ he would never be able to leave her again. He would hold her close, guard her jealously, she would be _his_ and no one else's because he was selfish and he was greedy and he was monstrous and he was in love with her and that overrode all rational reasoning.

She pulled away abruptly, a sudden guardedness coming over her, but he could see the awkwardness in her shoulders, the insecurity in the way she fidgeted.

His eyes narrowed, forgetting any thoughts about himself as he watched her.

"You are beautiful."

* * *

"Is that what you wished to tell me?"

She almost smiled, but couldn't summon the energy to do so.

_Always the gentleman, keeping his promises._

"Yeah, Vince. You can take off now." She slumped against the rough sandstone, tired of running and deciding to just wait for him to leave.

She felt herself losing her balance, begin to tilt towards the edge of that cliff, to fall towards the rocks below.

"...I don't know what to say."

She blinked, looking up to see that he was still there, kneeling before her. His voice pulled her back onto solid ground, but the reassurance only lasted a moment as her brain caught up with her once more.

"Don't hurt yourself trying to think of some way to spare my feelings, Vince. I'll get over it."

She was such a liar. She had so much practice at it that sometimes she almost believed her own lies, but not that one. That one left an unpleasant aftertaste in her mouth.

"I'm sorry."

She sighed, looking at him with resignation and a faint sense of curiosity.

_Will you ever stop apologizing?_

"For what?"

He looked rather taken-aback at the question, then paused to consider it. At any other time, she would have grinned in satisfaction that he didn't even know what he was apologizing for.

Now, grinning just seemed like a pointless exercise that gave the world a better shot at hitting her in the face with another emotional brick.

"...For not being blonde."

She stared at him in surprise, and despite herself she found a smile flutter across her face before quickly being smothered by the reality of the situation once more.

"Blonde wouldn't suit you, Vinnie. You're too smart to be a blonde."

He looked at her, an unmistakeable desperation in his eyes.

"Yuffie, I..."

She waited for him to finish, wanting him to just reject her so they could get off this _stupid goddamn mountain_.

"I'm a monster."

_And there he goes again._

"Bullshit, Vincent." The response came easily, automatically, and she wondered why he would not just believe her.

"It's not-"

As soon as he began to argue she felt some of her apathy fade away to be replaced by smouldering anger.

"You suggesting I fell in love with a monster, Vinnie? 'Cause usually when I see a monster I have an urge to stab it, not hug it." _Urge to fix it love it have it forever –_

"You do not understand – " he began, but she was fed up with it, fed up with all his _not understanding bullshit_ and she was going to fix this in him, once and for all.

"What? What is it I don't _understand_, Vincent? You never told me when I asked you the last time, so why don't you tell me now?"

Her head jerked sharply as he grabbed his own cloak, still wrapped around her and tugged her forward. She met his gaze evenly, ignoring the pain in her neck (_for it was nothing compared to other pains she'd known)._

"_I killed people for a living_," he hissed at her. "I shot them, I stabbed them, I beat them to death with my bare hands, all so a corrupt company could make more money. How could a human being do that? How could a _human being_ kill the woman they love?" Lucrecia. Stupid, bloody, beautiful Lucrecia and stupid, naive Vincent – "Explain to me how some_thing_ that does that can ever be anything other than a monster."

She stared at him for a moment, making sure he was finished before she responded.

"Congratulations, you were good at your job. Want a medal?" The words flowed out of her, sharp and angry. "You think my hands are clean? I stole from _hundreds_ of people, Vincent, and I took everything they had - "

"That's not the same th – "

"I ran into this these two young brothers, obviously poor. I overheard them talking, discussing how much they could get for some low level All materia at the materia shop in a nearby town, because they needed the gil to buy a potion for their sick mother or sister or something." _She waited, high in the tree, looking down on the ragged pair of young men, dressed in rags and dirty, but with a glinting orb in one of their hands._ "I can't remember who exactly because at the time I didn't give a _shit_ what they needed the cash for, I just saw an easy target. And I did it _again and again and again_ for seven _years_, Vincent."

_A little girl, crying as she sprinted away. An old lady, calling desperately for help that she silenced with a well-placed fist. A newlywed couple, their savings gone in moments._

She roughly shoved the memories away. This wasn't about her right now, it was about the stupid, stubborn man she was so in love with and who she'd show him he was human if it killed her.

"And despite everything you've done, you still loved her. Monsters don't love, Vinnie, only people and Carebears and wombats do, and I don't think you're a Carebear or wombat or a lovechild of the two so that obviously makes you a person whether you like it or not and I don't even care if you agree with me because I think you're a person and I'm a princess so whatever I say goes so _nyah_," she finished, sticking out her tongue at him.

He stared at her, his gaze unfathomable, and she suddenly realized how close she was and she drew back sharply, feeling awkward and ungainly.

"You are beautiful."

She snorted. "Don't go starting that again."

"I am very serious, Yuffie," Vincent murmured quietly.

"So am I," she retorted, bristling at his insistence.

She wanted to believe him, she really did. But that stupid little voice wouldn't _shut up_ and she couldn't ignore it and she just wanted to run away from all her petty little problems.

She started to stand, pushing herself up along the rock face. "Whatever, Vince. Look I should go – "

"No leaving until I show you."

She stared at him, and the emotions in his eyes were frightening and comforting and making her head spin.

She forgot all about running.

"Show me what?" Her heart was pounding once more, a rapid _thump thump_ like a frightened rabbit in her chest.

"I will show you you're beautiful."

_Kiss me hold me touch me love me -_

_Gawd_, the hope was painful. She looked away from him, swallowing, suddenly reminded that she was just a silly teenager with no experience whatsoever in these matters, all thumbs and left feet.

"I, uh, appreciate the effort, Vinnie, but..." but she had no idea what the _fuck_ she was saying or doing or thinking or feeling and why was she fighting this fighting hope –

_Because it hurts when you fall, and maybe she'd get hurt so bad she wouldn't be able to pick herself up again._

"But what?"

His voice was silk, all smooth confidence of a man in control, and he took a step towards her.

She took a step back, attempting to regain some feeling of balance, but she was stuck between a rock and everything she'd ever wanted and she was _scared._

"Vincent – "

He took another step towards her. She stared at his chest, terrified of looking up at those beautiful eyes.

"What are you doing, Vince," she whispered, her voice weak, barely audible.

"Showing you."

And his finger was tracing her jawline, leaving a trail of fire where it went and had breathing always been this difficult?

He was leaning forward, all raven hair and ruby eyes and she closed her eyes, feeling dizzy and –

His lips were on hers, and the world shrunk and all the cliffs around her disappeared and it was awkward because she didn't know what the hell she was doing and it was perfect and _this has to be a dream_.

It lasted only a moment, gentle and almost chaste but it left her lips tingling and her body shrieking for more and she was terrified that she would open her eyes and it would all be a lie created by her desperate mind and she would be back in that cell, curled up in the corner.

So she kept her eyes closed.

"Monsters don't kiss like that."

* * *

"You are beautiful."

She snorted. "Don't go starting that again."

"I am very serious, Yuffie."

"So am I."

In her eyes he could see the aching wish that she could believe him, and the cynical, self-loathing embarrassment that wouldn't allow her to do so.

"Whatever, Vince. Look, I should go – " she started, beginning to lever herself onto her feet but he interrupted quickly.

"No leaving until I show you."

He felt light, almost delirious because he knew what he could do, knew how he could fix her, and his demons were screaming and he paid them no heed whatsoever.

Yuffie stared at him, her body suspended awkwardly in some place between sitting and standing.

"Show me what?"

"I will show you you're beautiful."

She swallowed nervously, looking away.

"I, uh, appreciate the effort, Vinnie, but..." she trailed off, focusing on some particularly fascinating speck of dirt in the path.

"But what?" he murmured, and with the same surety with which he had murdered dozens of people as a Turk he stepped towards her, finally ready to claim what was his. She immediately attempted to step back, but only succeeded in flattening herself against the stone.

"Vincent – "

He took another step forward, until only inches separated them, his eyes never leaving hers, though hers were focused on his chest and blinking rapidly.

"What are you doing, Vince," she breathed.

"Showing you." He slowly lifted his right hand up, allowing his gloved fingers to trace her jawline with a feathery touch, and then –

It was bliss as he closed his eyes, terrible and consuming and it took all his self-control not to shove her against the rock and taste every inch of her right then and there. And she was kissing back, all elderly youth and he hardly even knew what he was doing because it had been so long –

He pulled way, a successful treasure hunter who had captured his prize and he was suddenly hit with the fear of losing it. Afraid he'd wake up and stare into the musky blackness of his coffin –

"Monsters don't kiss like that."

He smelled sakura blossoms.

He opened his eyes.

And she was still there, solid and real and undeniably Yuffie.

Her eyes were still closed.

He leaned forwards again, placing his lips by her ear, inhaling her scent –

"Do you believe me now?" he whispered.

* * *

Her eyes were still tightly shut, afraid to be opened, to reveal the sick lie she'd desperately created.

But she could sense him, feel the heat off of him in front of her, and hear the slight creak of leather –

"Do you believe me now?"

Her chest constricted as his breath caressed the side of her face, and she bit down on her lip.

"I want to," she choked out.

"Then open your eyes."

* * *

She stiffened at his voice.

"I want to," she replied, her voice weak and he could hear the desperation and longing in it.

"Then open your eyes."

After a moment's hesitation, she did.

* * *

The blackness lifted.

And he was there.

* * *

The voice was not silent.

The demons were not contained.

But they were only echoes, and doomed to fade away with the night.

* * *

A/N: _city of skeletons partying in your closet_ is a tribute to _A Fine Line_, by **Pen** **Against Sword**, while _only persons and carebears and wombats_ was inspired by _Sunshine in Winter_ by **Guardian1**. If you haven't read either of them, go read them now (or right after reviewing, maybe?).

It was very fun writing this, though in a very angsty, hair-tugging, nitpicky way. I spent almost an entire week just debating whether I wanted this to have a happy ending or not, and finally settled on yes, though I didn't want it to be "yay we are suddenly awesome and life's grand" ending because when you have the kinda issues Yuffs and Vinnie had in this fic happiness does not magically appear overnight. At the same time I didn't want to drag out all the possible issues (there was so much more angst I could have pumped into this, but I didn't want it to explode and shower people with incurable emoness). Hence the last three lines.

A ginormongous thank you to all the reviewers. Plushies for all. Two if you click that purply button down there and leave one last review for me, whether it's good or bad or just totally random.

What you can expect next is more _Dreams of Grey _(how many times have I said that now and then gone and updated something else?) and the sequel (finally) to _A Need For Spoons._ I want to take a break from the absolute angst for a while and get back into general and humour. Also working on some (gasp) Reefie oneshots.

Cheers, hope you enjoyed it!

PS: Do any authours reading this get the urge to put in totally anticlimactical endings? The kind that will get you shanked by your readers? ie: Have Vincent run after her just to get his cloak back and then leave? Or have them running then trip fall off the mountain and die? Then go "hah just kidding" and write the real ending? 'Cause I did...


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